#the bear I was buying had it stapled into his shoulder

[plushie-lovey]

Tried to buy that secondhand build a bear that I talked about before at good will yesterday. He still had his stupid little outfit on. I took his shirt off to see if he'd look better without an outfit. And to compare him to another BAB that was donated who was the same kind (I think they're both grizzly bears) to see who I liked more. I decided I liked the one who had the clothes better. So I took him to checkout. But when I got to the register the cashier said she couldn't sell him because he had no tag. He had one before I took off his shirt. I must have accidentally ripped it off. I was so upset cause he had such a sweet face. So I told the lady I understood, and I'd just grab the other bear to buy instead. But she said no cause they can't make a new tag using that bear's tag. But I was like. No, thats not what Im trying to do. Im gonna buy the other bear instead because they are the same bear, and that one has its tag attatched still. But she wasn't understanding that I wasn't trying to get the first for the other's price. And the assistant manager was there and was backing up the cashier. But I know the asm, because she's my datemate's manager (he works there) and he's told me how she never listens to what someone is saying. And I've also delt with her before when she was cashiering, and I was trying to buy a surprise gift for my datemate (who she invited behind the register to check his bag after he clocked out and purposely let him see what I was buying even tho I told her it was a surprise). She sucks. So anyways, I gave up trying to explain myself and proceeded back towards the toy bins to get the other bear. But midway over, I decided it wasn't worth it and just left instead. And that experience was the calm before a quite literal (and terrifying) storm.

[classicsubliminalbo]

Dirty Work

Originally published Jun 2, 2018

It was half-passed midnight and Andrea was ten minutes into a promising night's sleep when the phone rang. She answered with a curt, "What?"

"We got a job," Tyler said on the other end of the line. "It's a weird one." "Jesus, Tyler, I've got a midterm in nine hours." "We've all got shit on our plate, okay, Andrea? But it's a weird one. And weird ones..." "'Weird ones pay more,'" Andrea repeated. "Fine, whatever, pick me up." "Already outside."

Andrea met Tyler in the small parking lot across from her apartment. He was driving that same old shitty mint green Crown Vic he'd been threatening to trade in for a Tesla since they started the job. At least Tyler had a car, a thought that helped Andrea retain some humility every time she settled in the passenger's seat. The ignition stuttered when Tyler turned the key, and he shot Andrea an optimistic glance before the engine roared to life.

At a stoplight he asked, "What do you think about Vietnam?" "The war?" Andrea replied. "No, for spring break. I know it's a little esoteric but everyone does Orlando or Cancun." "That's because they're on this continent, Tyler." "Right," he said, driving through the light. "I think if you asked daddy he'd buy you a fucking beach." "You don't have to insult me," Tyler frowned. Andrea smirked and added, "What are you even doing still driving a beater?" "Honestly?" he asked. "College girls don't want to date a guy with a nice car. It's intimidating." "I wouldn't fuck a guy in this car. It smells like cheese."

Tyler continued on to Romero's main business strip, finally pulling over to the shoulder in front of Argento's Pizzeria. "Here we are," he said. "Argento's?" Andrea asked skeptically, studying the restaurant through her window. The lights were on but the neon open sign was switched off. Argento's Pizzeria and Italian was a staple of Carpenter State student life. Most students on a budget were regulars at Pizza Joe's, but Argento's was where you took a girl if you wanted a second date. It was never closed before two.

"I told you it's a weird one," Tyler said. "A couple of hours ago this girl goes batshit crazy, starts writhing on top of the table, really making love to this plate of spaghetti." "Gross." "Yeah. Junior can't get her to leave and she's making a scene so he does the logical thing and closes up, feeds her all the pasta she wants till she passes out." "Why doesn't he call the cops?" Tyler shrugged. "Bad for business, I guess. People round here know about us, Andrea. They know our deal with Pierce."

Their deal with Pierce. Most of the time he had them tailing his daughter, Monica, taking her into Dr. Fielding when she got too crazy. But things could get weird around Carpenter State and whenever the dean found himself or a friend in trouble, he called upon his team of fixers to clean it up. It was shit work, but it payed well. Most students wanted internships to build their resumes for life outside of college, but Andrea and Tyler's work with the dean was strictly off the books. That wasn't as big of a deal to Andrea who had the ambition of a hibernating bear. Tyler was the rising star of the pair, a journalism major with lofty goals and the family connections to achieve them. Growing up rich taught Tyler a lot about climbing ladders, and though he couldn't put "fixer" on his resume, Dean Pierce did promise to write any recommendation letter Tyler would ask for and had managed to secure him the position of head editor at The Daily Gremlin, Carpenter State's official student paper. Tyler found that controlling the news media around campus made his secret job a little easier.

"This place always gave me the creeps," Andrea commented as they waited for Junior at the door. "Why?" Tyler asked. "Who opens a pizza joint in a church?"

They heard the lock click, and the wide doors swing open. "Thank Christ you're finally here," Junior Argento breathed. "Where is she, Junior?" Andrea asked.

He nodded toward the back and the pair followed him into the kitchens. There they found the girl, Amy Teller, lying on the floor at the base of an industrial sink. Her boyfriend Jay was sitting next to her distracting himself with his phone. When he saw the two new faces he hopped up and eagerly asked them if they were cops.

Junior slapped Jay and sternly shouted, "No cops!" "We're the next best thing," Tyler winked.

Jay introduced himself and when Andrea asked, he explained what had happened.

"I swear it's those goons from Carmella's again," Junior grumbled. "They're trying to run me out of business!" "Tyler, come look at this," Andrea said as she examined Amy. "What is it?" Jay asked, taking a respite from his cuticle.

Tyler knelt down next to Andrea. She lifted up Amy's eyelid to reveal a solid crimson eye underneath. "You have any idea what that is?" she whispered. "I'll call Dr. Fielding," Tyler whispered back.

Amy jolted to life, startling the pair to their feet. "More!" she cried, grabbing hold of Andrea's arm. "So good...I need more!" "Baby!" Jay cried back. "It's gonna be okay, baby!"

Andrea placed a calming hand on Jay's shoulder. "We're taking her to the Psychology building. You should come with us."

Amy continued writhing in Tyler's backseat as they drove her down the road to meet with Dr. Fielding. Jay held her in his arms, trying to bring her back down, lull her back to sleep. Andrea and Tyler could only share uncomfortable glances at each other as Jay whispered hopefully in his girlfriend's ear. "Why the psychology building?" Jay finally asked.

"Dr. Fielding knows a lot about behavioral science," Andrea replied. "We just want to rule out a psychotic episode." "Jesus Christ," Jay cried.

Dr. Fielding was waiting in her pajamas outside the psychology building. She told them that she'd spoken to Dean Pierce and asked them to wait outside of her office while she worked with Amy and Jay. Andrea felt an eerie feeling of déjà vu sitting there, but she pushed through it while she discussed strategies with Tyler.

"It's not just going to sweep under the rug," she said as she rubbed her eyes. "A lot of witnesses." "It's midterm season, maybe school got the best of her?" Tyler suggested. Andrea shook her head. "Nah, Pierce'll never go for that. Too much heat on the school. Next we'll have parents asking what Pierce's doing for our mental health, he'd have to call a special investigation to save face." "What do you think then?" Tyler asked.

Tyler had the future, but Andrea was the real brains of the operation. This was where she was invaluable.

"What if...a new drug is going around campus, making students loopy." "I could print that," Tyler nodded. "No. We leak it to local news. Start a real hysteria, 'the new designer drug and why you're eleven year old is using it.' That way people aren't talking about Argento's, they're talking about the drug." "That's really smart, Andrea."

"I know," Andrea said. Sometimes it scared her how good she was at this job. "You ever think this is fucked up?" "All the time," Tyler replied.

Before they could continue discussing the ethics of their job, Dr. Fielding's office door opened and a surprisingly content-looking Jay stepped out. Fielding followed behind him and whispered in his ear. "Yes, Dr. Fielding," he said. Andrea and Tyler exchanged nervous glances as Jay shuffled blissfully away.

"I eased Jay's concerns," Dr. Fielding clarified. "But it's going to take a little bit more than hypnotherapy to bring Amy back." Dr. Fielding shook her head then added, "Of course you two don't have to worry about that. It's awfully late now, you'd best get along."

"Thank you," Andrea said, inching toward her seat. "Oh!" Dr. Fielding chirped. "There's just one more thing before you leave." "Yes?" Tyler asked. Dr. Fielding smiled, and somehow Andrea knew she had seen that smile before. 

"No!" Andrea cried, trying to leap out of her chair. But Dr. Fielding said, "Sleep," and Andrea was powerless to disobey the doctor's command. 

Andrea's body plopped lifelessly down in the chair as her chin hit her chest. Her heartbeat slowed, but she was still alive. Conscious even, but unable to think without a command. Andrea heard Dr. Fielding's voice echo clearly in her mind. "You both did a wonderful job tonight," she said.

"Thank you, Dr. Fielding," Andrea and Tyler said in unison.

"Pierce will get you your money but you understand by now that he needs you insurance you won't go telling your friends about the job. It's all very confidential." "Yes, Dr. Fielding, we understand." Dr. Fielding turned to Tyler and said, "Tyler, affirm your loyalty." "I am a loyal student of Carpenter State University. I swear to proudly serve Dean Pierce and protect the legacy of this institution." "Andrea, affirm your loyalty." "I am a loyal student of Carpenter State University. I swear to proudly serve Dean Pierce and protect the legacy of this institution."

"Very good," Dr. Fielding smiled. "Now, I want you two to take all of those doubts you have, all of those nagging ethics and questions that you have and lock them away someplace in your head that you'll never find. When you wake up, you'll understand what you've done tonight, and you'll be proud." "Yes, Dr. Fielding. We are proud to serve."

Andrea didn't remember leaving Dr. Fielding's office. She awoke the next morning in her own bed with a foggy head and an email granting her a makeup on the midterm, another benefit of working for the dean. Andrea smiled, happy that she could play a part in protecting her school.

[pulisicsgirl]

HELLOOOO I’M LATE WITH THIS🫣

You had done your best to bring the festive holiday spirit into your home—even into Mason’s as you forced him to join you in decorating his house on the very first day of December, dragging him into a few shops to buy extra decorations to fill his house. He had only pretended to be a little bit annoyed, his aversion to shopping completely overcome by getting to watch the joy on your face while decorating for the holidays. You had spread lights, tinsel, ornaments, and little snowman figurines all over the rooms of his home while you shuffled your Christmas playlist in the background. I WANT TO DO THIS WITH HIM🥹

However, Mason still couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment each time he remembered that you wouldn’t been spending Christmas morning with his family. He tried his best not to show it— he knew how much it meant to you that your family would be traveling to see you this year. WE AND MASON DON’T LIKE HER FAMILY😌🙁

But all of that seemed to come crumbling down in the matter of a few days. HERE WE GO😭

Your brother had unexpectedly received the news that his work schedule had changed, and he would be expected to work on Christmas Eve—meaning he, his wife, and your 2-month-old niece would be unable to travel to visit you. But your father and mother couldn’t possibly bear to miss the little one’s very first Christmas, so instead they would remain at home and your brother (who lived nearby) would host Christmas instead. FUCK THEM🥺

The news felt like a sharp object had been driven into your heart and you spent the rest of your evening curled up on your bed, wallowing in your feelings and ignoring the calls and texts from your mother after you had unexpectedly ended your conversation. I NEED TO GIVE HER AN HUG

When you awoke the next morning, your first thought was of talking to Mason about the previous night's events—a conversation that would unfortunately have to wait as he had a big game to play today: the highly anticipated Manchester derby. It was a huge game, not only because of the longstanding rivalry between the two teams, but because Mason was expected to be in the starting eleven. OH NO🥺

So then, you decided, you would have to tell him tomorrow… or maybe the next day. OH GIRLY

But for the second time in less than 24 hours, your stomach sank as, 14 minutes into the game, you watched Mason wave the physios over as he sat on the grass. He was too far away for you to be able to make out his facial expression, but there was no mistaking the posture of the rest of his body. As he spoke with the physios and they looked him over, his shoulders slumped, a resigned look taking over him. NOW I’M SAD

UGH SHE NEEDS TO TELL HIM OR SHE’LL EXPLODE😭😭

And though he always expressed his appreciation for your efforts, the smile he gave you was all too forced, and you knew he was still hurting inside. He had apologized to you a few times now for “being a right grump,” afraid he would ruin your excitement for Christmas time— and after that, you just didn’t have the heart to tell him that someone had already beat him to it. UGH I FEEL BAD FOR HIM, BABY BOY

It was only 2 days before Christmas, when Mason had decided to stay at yours for the night and you slid under the covers behind him, pressing your chest up against his back ad tangling your bare legs with his. Many months ago, Mason had confessed that he liked to be the little spoon when he was feeling a bit more vulnerable. And after his most recent injury a couple weeks ago, it had become a staple in your nighttime routine with him. You loved the feeling of cuddling up close to his warm skin, and you couldn’t help from pressing a barely-there kiss to the base of his neck, sending a gentle shiver down his spine. I AM MELTING, I WANT THIS

“Good, good,” he breathed, and you could tell he was enjoying the attention you were giving him. “Your parents get in tomorrow, right? Are you excited to see them?” OH SHIT🫣

THE FACT HE IMMEDIATELY KNEW SOMETHING WAS WRONG🥺🤏🏻

“They’re not coming?” Another nod. You watched Mason’s face fall in genuine hurt for you. “Again?” It was barely a whisper when he said it. EXACTLY MASON

“So you’ve been carrying this around for the last couple weeks all alone?” Mason finished for you. You shrugged in response. He could only hold you a little bit tighter, heart clenching in his chest at the thought of you being so weighed down by these emotions without him even knowing. HE IS A GOOD MAN SAVANNAH😌

“Tomorrow morning, I’ll help you pack a bag so you can stay at mine for a few days,” Mason stated matter-of-factly. “My family will all be arriving in the evening and they’ll be so happy to see you—Mum and Jazz especially, they were so disappointed when I told them you wouldn’t be spending Christmas morning with us.” THE FACT HE DIDN’T ASK, HE JUST TOLD HER WHAT THEY ARE DOING

“You didn’t spring anything on me last year,” Mason shushed you softly. “I invited you. And better yet this year, you already know just how stubborn I am, so you know this conversation isn’t ending in any way other than you agreeing to go home with me tomorrow.” I LOVE HIM😌🤭

A beat more of silence passed before you replied with a soft “okay,” and Mason burried his face in your neck, squeezing you tightly in excitement and you couldn’t help but giggle at him, your mood instantly lifted. The hurt and disappointment was still there, but it was significantly dimmed by the knowledge that you would get to be a part of the Mount Christmas for the second year in a row. HE IS SO HAPPY, AND SHE IS SO HAPPY TOO, I LOVE THEM

“You have no idea how excited I am to spend Christmas with you again,” he whispered, his nose brushing yours. HE IS A HAPPY BABY

Once everyone was in bed, you and Mason got to work setting out all of the presents that had been carefully hidden in Mason’s large closet. Mason watched with admiration as you carefully arranged the gifts and filled everyone’s stockings with the little bits and treats you had picked up over the last few weeks. The care with which you sorted everything left him feeling warm inside, thinking once again how thankful he was to have you with him on Christmas Eve. IMAGINE THEM DOING THIS FOR THEIR FUTURE KIDS🥹

OMG? SHE IS SO GOOD WITH SUMMER? AHHH CUTE😭

Mason’s heart swelled with affection for seemingly the hundredth time in the last few days as you bent forward to press a proper kiss to his lips. For a moment, he got lost in the feel of you, hoping the two of you could spend just a few minutes more together in bed. However you, painfully aware of the open door behind you, pulled back and dropped one last kiss to his forehead. Slipping quietly out of bed, you popped to the bathroom to brush your teeth before you and Mason went downstairs to join the rest of his family.HE IS SO IN LOVE

Much to your surprise, yours was no longer hanging on the mantel empty, as you had left it the night before. Instead, as you took it from Tony, you pulled out a variety of face masks, bath salts, and pleasantly scented soaps. You looked over at Mason, whose face held a satisfied smirk—he must have snuck back down last night after you had gone up and filled your stocking without you knowing.I MIGHT CRY, THE CARE HE HAS🥹🥹🥹

She approached you with a small box in her hands, mumbling a soft, “here you go, Auntie Y/N,” before spinning on her heel and returning to the tree. You froze in shock for a moment— it was the very first time Summer had ever called you that. You cared deeply for the little girl and her sister, and her clear acceptance of you as a part of the family meant a great deal to you. Mason, sitting with one arm behind you on the couch and on resting on your leg, squeezed your thigh as he saw your eyes go misty at Summer’s words. BYE BYE, YOU COMPLETELY LOST ME HERE

THE NECKLACE???AHHHHH CUTIE🫠

“Huh, would you look at that…” Mason spoke with an air of mischief. “Mistletoe.” CHEEKY

“I’m so in love with you,” you breathed, nudging his nose with yours.

Mason beamed, eyes sparkling as he looked down at you. “I’m so in love with you,” he repeated your words. “And even though it isn’t how you planned your Christmas to go, I’m glad you’re here today.” I AM MELTING GIRLLLLL

Mason pressed his lips to your forehead, holding your body close to his. “You don’t have to thank me, angel. I love getting to love you. It’s as easy as breathing for me.” OMG BESTIE THIS WAS SO SWEET

BESTIE

WOW

WOW WOW

AS I SAID IN THE REBLOG PT.1 OF THIS WAS WHAT MADE ME START FOLLOWING YOU AND OMG I’VE BEEN DREAMING OF A PART 2

THIS WAS SO CUTE AND SOFT

MASON IS A SWEETHEART 

HER FAMILY IS PROPER SHIT AND WE DON’T LIKE THEM AT ALL

SUMMER IS A CUTIE, WHEN SHE CALLED HER AUNTIE I MELTED COMPLETELY

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS, THIS WAS PERFECTION

CAN’T WAIT TO READ MORE WORKS OF RT FROM YOU NEXT YEAR🩷🩷

i forgot to post this a couple weeks ago but THANK YOU ANGEL!!!!!! this was so so sweet 🥹 your feedback means the absolute world to me!!!

[cheesus-doodles]

How Bestfriend Dabi turned Yandere HCs

‎the other source of my brainrot sdjkdfnsdknfdskjnflksjd i will be completely honest i don’t even read/watch BNHA??? 🤡🤡 so take these HCs with a grain of salt i wrote this based off of what I’ve read on Tumblr + wiki but im 100% planning to read eventually just to see my favourite little scarred boy :’)

manga spoiler warning: this contains heavy BNHA manga spoilers

‎

tw: yandere, violence, death

Masterlist

you knew him from a young age before even attending Hero Academy - back when he was still a normal kid and was still full of hopes and dreams

your two families probably knew each other - and you two were introduced to each other

bonded over families with high expectations, and quickly became bestfriends when you two found that yall could understand and relate to each other extra well

trained with him whenever he wanted to - if you had a quirk then it was a free for all, if you didn’t then it was just martial arts training

even though he always wanted to give his all every fight, and he always said he doesn’t care if you go hurt, he made sure to not go too far so that neither of you ended up too badly injuried

always comes over for secret snacks, ice creams and movie nights when your parents weren’t home

you always warned Dabi not to push himself too hard - you knew his goal of becoming the number 1 hero like his dad promised, but you also knew that he was overexterting himself

when he did overexert and hurt himself, you would quietly patch him up and offer him snacks - or let him cry into your shoulder

denies that happens, and you let him - you weren't there to push anything on him, moreso you wanted him to have a safe space, somewhere he could just be Touya

when Dabi asked you if you would hate him and stop being his friend if he had more and more scars, you told him to not be silly - of course you two would still be bestfriends

bought him a matching charm to yours after that - he still carries it around in his pocket

super self-conscious about his growing white hair, you could see it written all over his face

one day came back with your own hair dyed white - now you matched, you told him with a big smile on your face

💯 you got in trouble for that, but you didn’t really care if it made Dabi smile

you have secretly pasted stickers on his back without him knowing - he only found out later that he walked around town with hello kitty stickers 

you moved out on your own much earlier than he did, and made sure to let Touya know where your new place was and that he was always welcomed even if you weren’t home

he also knew where to find the spare key, and you kept your kitchen stocked with food and medical supplies

when his little brother was born and he was cast aside, your house was always the first place he ran to when he could no longer bear it at home or by himself

finally snapped and ran away from home for good, mental state in a mess and spiraling, you found him hiding out in the rain in the alleyway you two usually hang out at

didn’t speak with him much, or rather you knew he didn’t want to talk, so you just brought him to your place, and cooked him a hot meal, and let him have a room

new sets of clothes for him appeared in his wardrobe when he woke the next day

no thanks said between yall because no need for that - bestfriends after all

he sheltered at your place for as long as he could, but packed up and left without saying goodbye one night after he thought he had overstayed his welcome

nope 🤡 - he was back again real quick, cold and hungry, and you still welcomed him in with open arms

all his new staples and piercings never bothered you one bit - he was still Touya, your bestfriend

definitely have threatened to track him down and pull out all his staples with a staple remover if he doesn’t come visit or ask for help when he needs it

after that, he always came back to visit once in a while, and you would help patch up his clothes, buy him new ones if he wanted, and cook him his favourite hot meal

never judged or pitied him - or more importantly - you never stopped just being you around him

even when he writhed and changed and crashed - you just kept being you, and your stability in his life was what helped him carry on

became a lot more laidback and relaxed once he faked his death and could live his own life

he asked you if you were okay with him joining the villains, being a villain - and you told him that if he was happy, then so were you

even though you rather not him hurt other people - you valued him finding himself above all else

still stitched him up after his villain fights and all - you knew that he couldn’t go to a hospital for treatment so you did your best

you were his rock - and that was when Dabi realized that he has started down the yandere path - but he had no intention of turning back

you were the one that shook him out of his existential crisis and his mania and his depression - literally could not live without you patting his back and telling him that its alright

absolutely thought that you were too naive and weak to live by yourself without your bestfriend looking after you - whether or not you had a quirk that was stronger than his

you did open your house to a villain after all

you protected and sheltered him from the outside world and himself at his most vulnerable, and now it was time from him to do the same for you

one of the only few who knows his real identity, and definitely the only person who can still call him Touya and not get instantly turned into charcoal

[gloryofluv]

Order Up! (Coffee Shop AU) Chapter 5

Well, I guess Alex is going through the motions. I am really starting to love how well-rounded this is getting. Flirty fics are fun, but they always need heart and perseverance!

Chapter

1 - 2- 3 - 4

Fuck. Why did she do that? Alex wanted to toss her phone but knew she couldn’t afford a new one yet. Memories. Social media keeps track even if you don’t. She was bundled on the ground of the bathroom she just cleaned and sobbed.

All she wanted to do was look at this real estate agent that Lucifer texted her. She glanced down at the picture of her and her mother while she was getting dressed for prom. Would she be upset that she was thinking of selling their home? Would she be proud? She felt so fucking alone.

There was a knock at the bathroom door, and she stuttered on a breath. Fucking get it together, girl. She wiped her face and nodded. “I’ll be out momentarily,” she said in a cheery tone.

Breathe. Stand up. Bitch, buck the fuck up, you’re at work. Alex listened to her inner dialog, turned on the water to the sink, cleaned her hands and face, and fixed her makeup. After she was satisfied, she picked up her tool tote and walked to the door with a plastered smile.

Solomon was on the other side of the door. “Hey, Alex,” he said with a curl to his lips.

“Hey, Sol, how are you doing?” she asked.

“Not horribly. I’m a bit stuck on this formula, but it’s bound to come to me,” he voiced while walking in step with her.

She rocked her head and shifted at the entrance to the counter. “Let me just go put this away and clock out. We can chat a minute after I’m off the clock.”

He rocked his head and leaned on the wall nearby. “Want to take a walk with me?”

She tilted her head and hummed. “Maybe.”

“Good, I’ll order, and we’ll head to the park.”

“Oh, good, we’re taking a walk to the park?”

Alex glanced over to see Satan wander over with his tea and pastry bag. “Oh, hey, Satan. I didn’t see you there.”

He tilted his head and gestured to his messenger bag. “I was grading pages.”

Solomon crossed his arms before touching his chin with his fingers. “You want to join us?”

Satan rocked his head. “A little fresh air would be great.”

“Okay, let me just go finish up,” Alex smiled and walked to the back of the shop. Well, it was quite the variation, but after how interesting her Sunday had been, it wouldn’t be a bad thing. She turned to the computer after putting the tote away and clocked out. Shaking out her body and taking off her apron and hat, she rolled her neck.

There was something to be said about the smears on her uniform. Alex stripped off her overshirt and straightened her purple tank top, and pulled out her ponytail. After checking her face in the mirror and reapplying a few touches on her eyeliner and lip gloss, she was ready.

Better. Alex smiled and collected her bag before marching to the front again. Solomon and Satan seemed to be in a discussion about the book in Satan’s hand. Their hand gestures only confirmed the estimation as Alex walked over to collect her drink.

“Hey, babes,” Jess hummed. “Do you think you could do me a favor and take my Friday shift, and I’ll take your Saturday one. It's closing, and I have a date.”

Alex rocked her head. “Yeah, I can. You never ask me to trade, so they must be pretty hot,” she teased.

Jess smirked and rocked her head. “Yeah, Mr. Macchiato, who comes in the evenings.”

“Nice, well, I hope you have tons of fun. Text Jordan and let him know, alright?”

Jess beamed and blew a kiss. “You’re a lifesaver for my social life, hun.”

Alex waved and met up with the two intellectuals holding their beverages. “I’m just saying that Dickens wasn’t as extraordinary as we make him out to be,” Solomon huffed.

“Oh, no, we’re on about Charles again?”

Satan laughed and shook his head as they walked out the door. “Just Solomon’s primary dagger.”

“Solomon, do you just enjoy debating?” Alex asked.

Solomon smiled and shifted his head from side to side. “Occasionally, but so does Satan, so we have a mutual understanding never to take it to blows.”

“I think the Brontë sisters are probably a staple for every woman,” Alex added to the conversation.

“And men,” Satan nodded.

“Very true, but we need to selectively decide what mannerisms are dated in order to value the interpretation,” Solomon voiced.

Alex smirked and raised her hand to her chest. “'Do you think I am an automaton? — a machine without feelings? And can bear to have my morsel of bread snatched from my lips and my drop of living water dashed from my cup? Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong! — I have as much soul as you — and full as much heart!'” She paused after the quote and laughed. “Imagine declaring equality to a man who was higher in rank and stature than you in that time. The dated behavior is only setting.”

Satan let out a stream of hearty laughter. “Oh, Alex, I would have loved to have you in my class today. There was a sexist animal who was definitely in need of a strong female to set him straight.”

“My little Jane isn’t very plain,” Solomon chuckled and waved his hand.

“No, she isn’t,” Alex laughed before sipping her iced tea.

“I was referring to you,” Solomon hummed.

Alex smirked at him and shrugged. “I do pretty well, I suppose.”

Satan cleared his throat, drawing Alex’s attention to her left. “So, you realized that half your customers are my brothers.”

Alex rocked her head. “Yes, I was informed of that by Belphegor in a rather creative way.”

“I heard,” Satan laughed. “We all live together.”

“So I’ve heard,” she smiled.

“Interesting dynamic,” Solomon voiced. “All seven of them together.”

“They also throw some ridiculous parties,” Alex said and then waved her free hand in a circle. “From what I’ve heard.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I know you live across the street,” Satan snorted with a smug smile. “I’ve known longer than Lucifer.”

Alex gasped as they walked on the sideway in the park. “What?”

Satan chuckled and rocked his head. “Yes, I knew from Jordan. I was the one to buy his motorcycle.”

She shrieked and gasped. “Oh! That’s why I’ve seen it around the cafe.”

Satan wagged his eyebrows. “So yes, I’ve known for about four months. He pulled it out of your garage and brought it over. When I asked why he moved, he told me about your circumstance and why he was torn, but family comes first.”

“It does,” Alex smiled. “His mother was great to me when my parents died. She practically lived with me for the first six months. Then Jordan moved in, and he got me a job at the cafe. He’s always been like my big brother. So when his dad got injured at work and couldn’t work, I told him to move home to help.”

“How did you both meet?” Solomon questioned.

“Oh, that’s a funny story, actually. So, in middle school, he was a grade above me, and I was super shy. He saw me being harassed by some asshole. He stepped in and smoothed the situation. I was so shocked he was able to do so without violence. Jordan took me to the bathroom, cleaned me up, and told me that the only bitches in our life are the beautiful bitches we can be, so I needed to learn to walk like it. From then on, he just started pulling me into his antics,” she explained and laughed while shaking her head.

“You were shy?” Satan questioned.

Alex stopped drinking her tea and nodded. “I actually am in general. I took his advice to heart. I’m friendly and enjoy people, but I don’t have very many people I consider close with.”

“Is this why you aren’t dating anyone?” Solomon questioned.

Alex narrowed her eyes at him and smirked. “Yes.”

“Liar,” Solomon smiled.

“Wait, I really find this fascinating. You aren’t close to any family?” Satan asked.

Alex shrugged and hummed. “My aunts and uncles all live in different parts of the country. I was an only child, and now that my parents aren’t here, the only people I see are Jordan and his parents. Jordan’s sister left for a university across the country two years ago. I see them probably once a month.”

“You live alone? Like no one ever comes to knock on your door or calls your phone?” Satan questioned with a scowl.

“Well, I won’t be living there much longer,” Alex sighed. “I have to sell the place, so I’ll have to clear it out in the next couple of weeks. The financial officer, my parents, left in charge, said that the funds wouldn’t cover the expenses this next year, so it would be a good idea for me to sell.”

“Hm,” Solomon murmured. “I could help.”

“No,” Alex shook her head. “It’s time. I don’t need handouts, Sol. I appreciate it, but no.”

“Why do you feel like you have to do everything alone?” Satan asked as they rounded the outside of the park.

Alex breathed and shook her head. “It’s such a long story.”

“Your parents?” Solomon voiced.

This analysis was cathartic in a way, and Alex felt this heavyweight being pulled from her shoulders. “Well, yes and no. I was telling my mother before she passed that I was thinking of taking a year off to go with my boyfriend at the time to travel the world. She was so supportive, even though it would put my education in jeopardy. When they died, he bailed with some other girl, so I kind of just stopped relying on others.”

Satan tutted and exhaled. “To be an idiot teenager who couldn’t handle grief. I’m sorry you had to go through that, especially at such a young age.”

Alex smiled and shrugged as they made their way back to the cafe. “I’m pretty good. I have a degree. I’ll have a decent nest egg to pay for my schooling for an even better education and my best friend. I’m doing pretty well.”

“I have an intrigue before we conclude our adventure into your life,” Solomon hummed.

Alex tilted her head as she grinned at him. “What’s that?”

“You are strong without someone, but it makes it so much richer to share your heart with others,” Solomon declared.

“Says the man who has done his fair share of that,” Satan snorted.

Solomon rolled his eyes. “Satan, don’t cast stones in glass houses.”

“You have been married three times now,” Satan snorted.

News. Alex raised her eyebrows. “Three times? Aren’t you like barely forty?”

“I resent that,” Solomon scowled. “No, I am not. However, marriage and love are difficult measurements in a formula very few understand. I’m difficult.”

“I actually like that about you,” Alex laughed.

Satan scowled as they stopped at the sidewalk near the cafe. “You enjoy that he’s difficult, but you won’t text me?” he questioned with a sly smile.

She puffed and pulled his phone from his bag’s pocket. It was sticking out and available. Alex then went to his keypad, dialed her number, and pressed the call. Her phone soon rang, and she hung up.

“Now, you have my number. Stop trying to make me do all the work, you pushy professor,” she snorted and handed his phone back.

Satan was grinning as he pocketed his phone. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Solomon handed her his phone, and she groaned but did the same exact thing. “If you both call me all the time, I will block your number,” she teased.

“If you need any help with your house, please tell me,” Solomon nodded. “I am quite organized.”

“I will,” Alex smiled.

Solomon tossed his cup in the trash and smiled before walking to his car. Alex watched him wave and climb inside before driving off in the silver vehicle. Satan shifted and tilted his head when she turned back to him.

“Did you want to have dinner with me tonight? I’ll cook,” Satan offered.

“Just because we’re temporarily neighbors does not mean I’m a booty call, understood?” Alex questioned.

Satan snorted and straightened his shirt. “You’re far too interesting to blow on a booty call, Alex.”

“Just had to make it clear. I would take your offer for dinner, but I’m actually exhausted. Diavolo came in for a coffee tasting, and I hosted it. Since then, I’ve just been drained.”

Satan rocked his head. “Well, I’ll ask tomorrow then,” he smiled and shrugged. “You’ll eventually say yes,” he chuckled and walked over to the motorcycle.

Alex smiled and observed as he slid on his helmet, waved, and climbed on the bike. Bad boy, professor. Pretty sexy. That tickled her to no end. He pulled out with a roaring shift of gears and headed in the same direction she needed to go. Home. Even if it was just for now.

@rsmrymnt-tea @otome-scribbles

[technicolor--dreams]

The object of her affection: chapter 1

Plot summary: Summer 1937. Flighty heiress Susan (Merle Oberon) has been in love for years with her father’s business partner Joseph (Fredric March), and will stop at nothing to get the obejct of her affection, even if it means involving a wise cracking cab driver named Connor (Joel Mccrea) who has little patience for her silly antics.

p.s. i put the actors name and screencaps because that’s how i write, picturing a movie with actors. i hope it’s alright. also if there’s some spelling mistakes english is not my first language so bear with it.

If you had asked Susan Holbrook if she was a sore loser, she would've denied it vehemently, but that was only, of course, because she did not contemplate losing as an option altogether. Since she was born eighteen years before, life had bestowed every blessing upon her. The only daughter of Russ Holbrook, heir to the famed railway dynasty which settled in the United States a century before, she acquired money from her father, beauty from her mother, and her intelligence from both. Since she was an infant, she had been spoiled and pampered, not only by her parents, but also from nannies, servants, and family acquaintances who never failed to stop by the Holbrooks bearing gifts for the littlest one. Her life had been an easy one for most part, as anything she wanted was at her disposal, be it a toy or a pet, or a new shiny pair of shoe handcrafted in Paris. That was, until a fateful spring day on her fifteenth year of life, where she fell upon the only thing her parents couldn’t buy her – love.

She'd first met Joseph about  two years prior at her father's annual company picnic. As the boss' daughter, she was required to attend, but in all frankness, she didn't care much for the event. Everyone in attendance was either too young or too old to keep her company, as most of her peers had been sent to boarding school abroad by their parents once they became of age. Those who had once been her childhood friends were now across the ocean, while she had been left behind to be home schooled, her parents far too sentimental to send the only daughter a continent away.

That year's picnic hadn't seemed remarkable in any way. The weather had been considerably favorable, and the park adjacent to Susan's family's country estate provided the perfect scenery for relaxing and playing around. Conversation with her parents had been pleasurable, as much as it can be for any sixteen year-old girl, that is, and she indulged their friends in small chit-chat whenever they stopped by their table. Food and drinks had been good and plenty, and by the time two p.m. rolled round, she was ready to settle on a blanket with a book and doze off in the sun for a couple of hours.

It was during a particularly enthralling passage of Wuthering Heights, that a handsome stranger approaching her father caught her attention by standing in her light. When she put her book down and turned around he was already gone, immersed in chatter with her father a few feet away from her. From where she was standing she could only see his back, but she admired his tall, slender figure and his broad shoulders. She noted that his left finger was bare, not to mention he had a whole head full of hair, which was not something to underestimate in her limited opinion. How many times had she met perfectly handsome men who from the front sported luxurious locks, only to find out when she turned around that God had not been as generous in the back!

The man appeared beside her, after ending his conversation with Mr. Holbrook. "Do you mind If I sit here?" 

"Not at all." she replied, scooting aside to make room for him.

"I don't think we've met. I'm Joseph Westley." he extended his hand, "I just started working for your father a month ago."

"I'm Susan." she shook his hand in turn, "But you probably already knew that."

"Firm grip." he observed.

"Father says it's the mark of a great man."

"But you're not a man."

"Who says a woman can't be as great as any man?"

"True. Say, how old are you? Fifteen?"

"I'll be sixteen next month."

"Hm." Joseph picked a grape from a nearby container and popped it into his mouth. "You got moxy for your age. I like that. I bet you could convince someone you were a tree if you talked to them long enough."

"Perhaps. I've never tried. How old are you?"

"Thirty last month." He replied, looking far away pensively. "You know, it's nice to talk to someone young for a change. Everyone here's either five or fifty."

"Tell me about. I had to go to these things since I was a baby. You know, you should bring someone to keep you company at this sort of boring engagements ... “ Susan said coyly, trying to suss things out. “a girlfriend, or a wife."

"I don’t have any. Maybe someday. What about you? No one to keep you company?"

"Oh, no. I'm just there to play good little daughter and be the belle of the ball."

"Doesn't that bother you?"

"Why should it? I'm not one in a position to complain. Besides, once I'm eighteeen, everything's gonna change. I'll do what I want."

"Now, you sound exactly your age." Joseph laughed.

As they continued talking, Susan's fascination with Joseph only grew stronger. It was so different from any other male she'd met. He actually listened to her when she talked, never breaking eye contact and keeping her engaged with questions born out of genuine curiosity rather than mere duty. He treated her like a peer instead of fragile china doll, or a puppy that you pat on the head condescendingly after giving them a little treat.  

Susan hadn't been the only person impressed with Joseph, though, as Susan's father himself had nothing but praise for the young man. His arrival to the company had improved business tremendously, and he found him to be a shrewd businessman, not to mention a trustworthy employee. He saw a great future for him in their company, and soon he was a staple in their household, coming to dinner twice a month, much to Susan's delight. In a matter of months, he had become not only a close associate, but a close friend of the family and everyone could only say that the day they had met Joseph Westley had been a blessed one.

* * *

Months flew by, and they soon became years. Susan’s eighteenth birthday rolled around, and with that, her certainty that Joseph would finally reciprocate her love.  

"Happy birthday to youuu, Happy birthday to youuu. Happy Birthday, dear Susan, Happy birthday to youuuuuuu."  

The crowd surrounding Susan concluded their off-key rendition, clapping and cheering as the maid hauled a white sheet cake with an emblazoned gold eighteen on the table.

"Come on, darling, make a wish." Mrs. Holbrook urged her, patting her shoulder with her lacquered hand.

Susan leaned down on the table and rested her index on her chin, pretending to think it over. In truth, she knew all too well what she wanted, or rather who. In fact, she had been trying to get the object of her affection for years, to no avail. Her eyes glanced across the room where Joseph stood, his dark hair peeking over in the middle of the crowd, and before darting back on the cake she could’ve sworn she was him winking in her direction. She smiled, then blew on the burning candles with all her might. She was gonna get her wish this year, she swore to herself, If that was the last thing she'd do.

* * *

Susan walked towards the balcony, where Joseph leaned over the railing, smoking a cigarette.

"Here," she said, putting a slice of cake on the marble in front of him. "I saved you a corner piece. Those are the best ones."

"Thanks" he replied, putting out the cigarette on a nearby ashtray. "There was so many people trying to get a piece, I figured I'd never get close anyway."

"Consider this one the perks of being close friends with the birthday girl."

"So, how does eighteen feel?" He asked, digging with his fork into the white frosting.

"Don't you remember?"

"It's been a while," he chuckled, "You're gonna have to refresh my memory."

"Exactly the same, and completely different at the same time. There is so much I couldn't do yesterday that I could do now. For example, getting married ... I could just run off to Vegas with anyone and be done in a few hours. I'd be set for life, and no one could object." she said casually, hoping Joseph would catch the hint.

"Except voting, or drinking." he quipped.

"Oh, well. What's three years, anyway?"

"Three years is a lot of time at your age. Anything could change."

Susan waved her hand dismissively. "Why must you always be so practical?"

"Occupational hazard." he polished off the last bit of cake left on the plate, leaving a light smearing of frosting over his upper lip. “Listen, there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you a-”

Susan giggled, unable to contain herself at the sight of Joseph’s serious frown next to his sugary moustache.

"What's so funny?"  

"You got a bit of -" she giggled some more, coming closer to reach for his face, then ran her thumb over his mouth.

"Susan." he said firmly, but not without a hint of fondness in his voice, retracting as gently as possible.

“All gone.” She reclined back on the railing, and licked the frosting from her fingers. "You know, I think a moustache would suit you. Look at Clark Gable. Before he had one he was nobody, then boom, he won an academy award. You should think about it."

"Maybe. That's a big change in a man's life." he said, averting her gaze and picking up his empty plate. "I think we'd better go back inside, it's getting chilly out here. Everyone is probably wondering where you are."

* * *

If there wasn’t one thing Susan couldn’t resist, it was a good piece of gossip. Mind you, she was not one to engage directly in the activity, but in her opinion, there was no harm done in being a passive listener. If wasn’t her fault if other people couldn’t keep their tongues tied, after all, and if she happened to be in earshot, she certainly couldn’t help what she ended up hearing.

So, of course, that monday, when she ran into some of her mother’s friends sitting poolside at the Country club after her weekly tennis practice, and found them immersed in deep hushed chatter, she couldn’t help but stopping by - not because she wanted to eavesdrop, of course. It would have just been quite impolite not to say hello, that was all. Etiquette and whatnot.  

“Good morning, ladies.”

The small group immediately stopped their chatter, turning their attention to Susan.

“Susan! Come, come sit, darling. You must be parched.” Mrs. Vance, one of her mother’s fellow member of the daughters of the American revolution said, before pouring her her a glass of iced tea.

Susan thanked her and sipped on her drink, as the woman kept talking.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t come to your birthday party last week. It’s my Benjamin. The flu, you see. He’s always been sensitive to temperatures, but now I’m afraid age is catching up with him. He’s all bones and his skin, all wrinkles.”  

“Poor thing.” Susan said, sympathetically. “Send him my regards, and tell him I wish him a quick recovery.”

Mrs. Vance furrowed her brows, uncertain what to say. “I will, If he can understand what I’m saying.”

Susan put a hand on her heart. “Oh, gosh, I didn’t know his health that bad.”  

Mrs. Hoover, a little octogenarian with fiery red hair sitting on Susan’s right side, leaned into her. ”Benjamin is her sphinx cat.” she whispered.

“Oh.”  

“Anyway,” Mrs. Vance continued, “We’ll have occasion to see each other soon. Your family is coming to Martha’s Vineyard this fourth of July, right?”

“Oh, yeah, we wouldn’t miss it for anything in the world.”

Every year during the days leading to the fourth of July, Susan and her parents flew to their Martha’s Vineyard property, alongside some of their close friends who also happened to have properties in the same area. It was a full on extravaganza filled with music, food, and games, leading up to the big party the night of the fourth, which the families took turns in hosting.

“You better not.” Mrs. Vance replied, “I heard this year it’s gonna be quite the event.”  

Her dark eyes closed into slits, her mouth thinning into an enigmatic smile, giving her the appearance of an elder Mona Lisa.

“Really?” Susan asked, perking up.

“Yes, but I shan’t say more.” the woman mimed zipping her mouth.

Mrs. Hanson, a plump blonde woman around her mother's age,  jumped in from her seat across the table. “An engagement is gonna be announced on the fourth, or so they say.”

“Oh, how fascinating!” Susan sighed, dreamily. “Whose?”

“Phyllis, I said no talking!” Mrs. Vance objected.

“No, dear, you said you would say nothing. I’ll talk as much as I please!” Mrs. Hanson replied, before turning back to Susan.  

“So, I was at the hairdresser yesterday, and who I run into if not Louella.”

Louise Carson, neè Wilson, was known to her family members by her birth name. But to everyone else who mattered she was known as “Louella”, due to her more than average-sized mouth.

“Her sister-in law lives right next door to the brother of the widow of the younger Wilson. You know, the short one, not the tall one.”

“And?” Susan pressed on.

“She says the daughter of the other Wilson brother is announcing her engagement at the party.”

“Which Wilson? the short one?”

“The middle one.”

“Age or height?”

“Both.” Mrs. Hanson replied, before turning to Mrs. Hoover. “Martha, what’s his daughter’s name?”  

“Helen.” her friend supplied.

“Yes!” Mrs. Hanson exclaimed. “She’s the one getting engaged. Do you know her, Susan?”

“Not really. We only met a few times. Wasn’t she studying in London?”

“She graduated a couple of months ago and came back home.”

“You left out the most important part, Phyllis!” Mrs. Hoover urged her friend. “The boy!”

“Oh, right. Who is she marrying?”

Mrs. Hoover smiled wickedly through her wrinkles, eager to share such a juicy piece of information.  

“You know him. It’s that nice young fellow who works for your father,” she thought it over for a second, ”Joseph.”

All color drained out of Susan’s face as the grip around the cold glass in her hand tightened, her heart beating a hundred miles an hour under her white tennis outfit. She didn’t dare move a muscle, or reply for that matter, fearing her feelings could have transpired in her reaction. If her shock was evident, she couldn’t tell either way, since the ladies around her seemed much more concerned with the sound of their own voices than anyone else's, buzzing like bees.

“Now, you have to promise to keep this hush-hush. It’s supposed to a surprise.” Mrs. Vance said.

“Hmm-hmm.” Susan agreed, nodding, before gulping down the remaining of her tea, her mind barely registering what was happening around her.

The ladies continued talking, engaging Susan in polite chatter, but the whole ordeal had clearly lost all of its appeal to her. What was the fun of gossip when you were at the offending end, albeit indirectly?  

So, she got up on unsteady feet and excused herself, leaving Mrs. Vance with the promise of coming over soon with her mother to visit Benjamin and share a cup of tea.

She checked her wristwatch on the way to the wooden building housing the changing rooms. It was only eleven in the morning, but she already couldn't wait for the day to be over.  

[persnickety-persnackety]

Set Her Free

Title: Set Her Free Word Count: 6K Ship: Jon/Sansa Rating: T For the @jonsa-halloween Halloween Event Day 7

AN; I really don’t know what this is, but this was something I chose to write for Halloween instead of sleeping, so here it is.

It was her eyes that gave her away. She could fool everybody else with that dazzling smile of hers and those charming words that escaped her lips as easy as her breath, but as someone who liked to believe he was something of a Sansa Stark-expert, Jon only had to take one look into those azure pools to know that behind the disguise of a happy façade, the woman was drowning, and no one else seemed to realize that she was silently crying for help.

Jon hadn’t wanted to attend the dinner celebrating Sansa’s engagement to that blond twat, Harry Hardying, but he had been cursed in life to have Robb Stark as his life-long best friend, and the man was rarely ever told ‘no’ so he had a tendency of pushing back whenever he heard it, especially when it came from Jon. Granted, Robb had ignored all the signs of his best friend being in love with his sister for the past decade, so he didn’t understand why Jon would want to avoid attending the engagement dinner of his younger sister to a man he secretly loathed without even having to meet him. He had been particularly relentless in batting Jon’s excuses aside until Jon realized that the chances of him not attending were basically slim to none. The only thing he could cling onto was the hope that his heart had done the opposite of growing fonder in Sansa’s absence.

That hope was dashed the second he walked into Winterfell and saw her for the first time in over twenty-four months. Her back was turned to him, the pale skin bared by the open back of the royal purple dress she was wearing, as she entertained an older couple who were undoubtedly important friends or associates of her parents. Her scarlet tresses had been dyed blonde and had been sheared to her shoulders, but even still, Jon knew it was her. He had little doubt that he would have found her even if every light was put out and they were left in sheer darkness. It was like a part of him was pulled to her no matter where they were, just like it always had done since he was a young boy.

The smart thing to do in that situation would have been to turn right around and walk right back out the door and back to his car where he could drive as far from Winterfell as he could possibly get, but such thoughts were stopped before they could bloom by Robb’s sudden appearance at his side. His best friend was on his way to being three sheets to the wind, and even though every atom in Jon’s body was desperate to both leave and to be as close to Sansa as possible, he soon realized that babysitting Robb was going to be his primary duty throughout the night.

He didn’t even get to really see her until they all sat down for dinner, and he was blessedly, or cursedly – he was torn on how he really felt, seated directly across from her at the table. Over lemon-chicken and rosemary-roasted potatoes, his eyes had met hers for the first time, and he swore that at that moment everything in the universe went still for a heartbeat, though it felt closer to an eternity. She gave him a small smile, a bare twitch of her lips, but Jon was too lost in the dark cerulean seas of her eyes to really notice it because it was in those eyes that he found himself entranced by the dark void he found there that sucked him in, even though his body remained glued to his seat. And it was while he was immersed that he realized just how somber she looked.

His first instinct was to ask if she was all right, to ask why she was so sad, but Sansa’s attention was promptly called away by her fiancé who then made it a point to keep her focus on him throughout the rest of the dinner. The smug bastard had the audacity to shoot Jon a wink when Sansa wasn’t looking, as though he knew how Jon would have given anything to have been in his seat. It took everything in Jon not to chuck his wine glass at the smarmy ass’s head, and even then, it was only realizing that there was a chance that he would get wine on Sansa’s dress that stayed his hand in the end.

It was only after dinner, while he was speaking with Ned about the security firm he was planning on opening in Winter City, that Jon finally noticed that Sansa was finally alone for the first time that evening. He couldn’t even remember what excuse he gave Ned to abruptly end the conversation, but his surrogate father seemed to understand his urgency based on the small, knowing smile he gave Jon before stepping aside to let him get to Sansa. Jon didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing, having the father of the woman he loved know of his feelings when he also knew that said daughter was engaged to another man, but as soon as he reached Sansa, such thoughts disappeared from his mind altogether as his primary focus became Sansa, and Sansa alone.

She really did look radiant in that dress that accentuated every line and complimented every curve. The fact that it showcased those never-ending legs of hers was also something he would have loved to admire more had he not been so determined to be a gentleman by keeping his eyes glued to above her neck. Yes, he missed those dark red tresses that his fingers had always itched to run through, but even as a blonde, Sansa was a vision that he would have gladly spent the rest of his life drinking in. But even in the middle of his yearning, the melancholy that emanated from her eyes was too prominent to be ignored, especially when it came from a girl who was supposed to be blissfully in love with a man she was going to marry and spend the rest of her life with.

Jon didn’t even know what he was planning on saying when he approached her. All he knew was that he couldn’t bear to just sit back in silence while watching her schmooze and entertain in the midst of her own silent suffering. A part of him was almost wary about ending her small moment of solace from the madness of the party, but even when she was by herself, that look in her eyes remained. It was like a dark stain that refused to be removed by cheer and laughter, and he couldn’t allow himself to let it go unaddressed.

He nearly forgot what he was preparing to say when he reached her and she looked up to meet his questioning gaze. The wide smile that spread across her pink-glossed lips nearly stole the breath right out from his lungs. It almost made him realize how so many people could fail to see that something was amiss because being the subject of that blinding smile almost made it hard for one to focus on anything else. She was that captivating.

“Jon! Oh, I can’t believe that the party is nearly over and this is the first time I’m actually talking to you,” she proclaimed with a hint of reprimand in her cheerful tone. “I’m so sad that we didn’t get more time to catch up, but I’m so glad that you came. It wouldn’t feel right celebrating my engagement here in Winterfell without one of the staple presences here in the North being here. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you, and you look amazing! How are you?”

Even though her line of questioning was fairly standard when it came to conversations and greetings, Sansa’s sincerity was what made it feel so genuine and open. The fact that she looked like she actually cared about his answer was what made it hard for Jon to push down those yearnings that never really went away to focus on his original intent.

He gave a cursory response, forcing himself to keep things light in his summary of his life, but Sansa nodded along with her gaze fixated on him like he was the only person in the universe. Jon would never dare to presume that her interest went anywhere beyond platonic, but just the fact that she took an active interest made his chest both feel warm and ache at the same time. It also pushed him to ensure that everything was okay with her.

“That’s enough about me,” he finally said, choosing that time to turn the conversation back to her. “Tonight, after all, is supposed to be all about you. How are you, Sansa? How’s your life going?”

It was her hesitance before responding that made Jon realize that his feeling of something being off with her was correct. Any other woman, after all, would have been ready to spout off how happy and excited they were to begin their new life with their significant other at their engagement dinner, but in that moment of hesitation, that sad look in her eyes grew stronger.

Of course, being the only daughter of Catelyn Stark, Sansa was back on her game less than a second later, forcing a wide smile on her face as she blathered about Harry and his job, as well as her being knee-deep in wedding planning. Jon couldn’t help but notice that she didn’t seem to have much to say about her own personal life outside of Harry and the wedding, which he found to be a bit disconcerting. Maybe that was why she didn’t seem like her completely bubbly-self.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Sansa?” he asked her after she finally finished prattling on about the house that she and Harry were looking into buying back in the Vale.

At his question, the ever-present smile on Sansa’s lips faltered and her eyebrows became screwed up in alarm. Jon almost felt like he had made a grave error in his persistent questioning, but it was the way her eyes suddenly took on a glassy look that forced him to push on.

“I’m happy that you found the perfect guy for you, Sansa,” that was actually a lie, but he didn’t necessarily want her to know that, “but I couldn’t help but notice that you seem a little… dejected? Are you sure that everything’s all right with you?”

She stared at him for a long moment, her blue eyes studying his as though looking for some kind of deception or duplicity in his question, but after a moment, she seemed to be satisfied with what she saw because there was no anger or irritation on her face; in fact, Jon swore he saw a brief flash of relief in her gaze. The look became magnified as she took a step closer to him, closing the small distance between them, with her mouth open, ready to answer him – something that Jon found himself desperate to hear – but before she could say anything, Catelyn’s voice broke through the spell.

“Sansa, there you are!” the Stark matriarch called out, pulling Sansa’s gaze from his, though Jon yearned to bring it back. Catelyn shot Jon a solemn look, something that Jon was used to being on the receiving end of throughout the many years he had come and gone from Winterfell. He could just tell with that one look that she was not pleased to find that he was the reason she had not been able to find her daughter. “I’ve been looking all over for you. Harry is talking to Wyman Manderly and I don’t think that he’s making much headway with him, so you’re needed.”

Sansa nodded, but she turned to Jon with remorse etched on her face. She opened her mouth, most likely to utter some kind of apology, but Jon wasn’t in the mood the hear it.

“You’d better go. I’m actually thinking of heading out now, anyway, so I’m just glad that you and I got the chance to talk and catch up while I could,” he said, forcing his own smile onto his lips in an attempt to make her feel better about leaving him. 

It was clear that Sansa didn’t believe him, but Catelyn had grown impatient and was already pulling Sansa back into the main room where the rest of the guests were gathered together. Just before the two women re-entered the fray, Sansa shot him another look over her shoulder, and Jon, who hadn’t moved a muscle despite his previous statement that he was getting ready to leave, met her glace with a sad smile, even as he watched the hopelessness bleed back into her eyes. 

That would be the last time he saw her as a Stark because, after tonight, she would be heading back to the Vale with Harry, and based on Harry’s reaction to him, Jon highly doubted he would get an invitation to the wedding. This had been his last chance to see her as the woman he loved.

As he stood with his back physically and metaphorically against the wall, Jon couldn’t help but think of how he wished that Sansa had retained some of the fierceness she once had as a child. It was clear that Harry was a choice that Sansa made to appease her mother and her high expectations, something she had been dealing with for years as the only daughter of the legendary Catelyn Stark, but he wasn’t sure that she was truly happy with her choice. Jon just wished that she had some of the rebelliousness she had once had as a girl who once made the ever-proper Catelyn Stark want to pull her hair out. She had been the cause of a lot of problems in Winterfell, but that was the girl that he had fallen in love with, even though he hadn’t even known what the word ‘love’ really meant at the time.

When Sansa was a young girl, she had been like night to her current day as a woman. As much as she tried to be proper for her mother, there had been a mischievous, veering toward dangerous, streak in little Sansa as well. One minute she was drinking tea with her dolls, and the next she was making mud pies on Catelyn Stark’s thousand-dollar marble countertops. One second, she would be picking flowers and making crowns with them, and then the next, she was chopping Waymar Royce’s action figures into pieces with a hatchet as payback for him making fun of Bran for having to walk with braces on his legs. One moment she was an angel, and then suddenly she was doing something that would make anyone think she had been possessed by a demon. It had driven her mother crazy, but to Jon, she had been precious.

It was then that Jon remembered how a lot of the mischief that Sansa got up to throughout her childhood was attributed to her imaginary friend that she had from the moment she could talk. Arya Underfoot was her name, and it was a name that always popped up whenever Catelyn or Ned demanded to know what Sansa had been thinking after she had committed a particularly naughty act.

“Why would you cut up your mother’s sheets, Sansa?” “Arya Underfoot said that they would make the best snowflakes, Daddy. Don’t you think they look beautiful?”

“Why did you write those foul things on the wall, Sansa?” “Arya Underfoot thought that they would cheer Bran up after his surgery, and it did, Mommy! Didn’t you hear him laugh?”

Jon could remember quite a few things that “Arya Underfoot” had supposedly persuaded Sansa to do within the walls of Winterfell, but nothing her parents threatened could ever make Sansa exile her friend. Not even her friends’ ridicule for having an imaginary could sway Sansa to give up her invisible companion. Nothing worked.

Up until she was twelve-years-old, Sansa clung to Arya Underfoot like she was a piece of herself, and then on her twelfth birthday, Arya Underfoot just mysteriously disappeared from Sansa’s life. Jon’s memories were a bit fuzzy, but he swore that losing Arya Underfoot came about shortly after Sansa had pulled a prank on Ramsay Bolton at her party that had resulted in Ramsay having his hair completely singed off, which had abruptly ended the party and had left Catelyn Stark positively seething. Her angry yells could be heard everywhere in Winterfell, and nothing Ned said could calm her down. 

Sansa had seemed genuinely sorry to have upset her mother, but she wasn’t repentant when it came to what she had done to Ramsay. All she would say on the matter was that it was better that it was his hair that got burnt off and not the walls of Winterfell. That was all Jon remembered her saying right before she was sentenced to her room for the rest of the night. She wasn’t even allowed to open the presents her guests had given her.

The next time Jon saw Sansa, he noticed a change in her right away. She seemed solemn, withdrawn, and yet she also seemed eager to stay around her mother, like she needed her to fill the void that Arya Underfoot had left. Jon still didn’t know what happened that night to make Sansa give up her imaginary friend, but he couldn’t help but think that if the adult Sansa had Arya Underfoot, she wouldn’t seem so lost in her own skin.

As if that realization sparked to life something in his brain, Jon soon found his feet almost moving of their own accord away from the front door toward the stairs that led to the upstairs rooms of the giant manse. He was a bit confused as to where his feet were taking him until he found himself in front of the door that led to the room that had once belonged to Sansa. Though the guilt of invading her privacy was nearly overpowering, that newly enflamed spark of awareness in his mind propelled him forward through the door that he had been reluctant to open.

The room looked the same as it did the last time that he visited Sansa, which had been shortly after he graduated high school and was preparing to join the Watch. The white walls were still decorated with the posters of the bands she loved in high school, and the bed and furnishings appeared untouched, which made him think that she and Harry were staying in another guest room instead of staying in her room or they were staying in a hotel instead of at Winterfell. That made him feel a little less guilty as he walked further into the room and started looking around for something – something he didn’t even know he was looking for but felt that he needed to find. It was a strange feeling – one that was a bit frightening considering how strong it was in his mind despite him not even knowing where it originated from. All that thought seemed to say was that there was something Sansa needed, and it was somewhere in her old bedroom.

“This is crazy,” he muttered aloud when he found himself opening Sansa’s closet door and took note of the old clothing she had left behind. “What, in all the bleeding hells, am I doing here?”

Don’t give up, you bleeding idiot. She needs me.

Jon didn’t know where that thought came from, and the foreignness of it made the hair on the back of his neck stand straight on end. The thought definitely didn’t feel like one of his own, which meant that it had to be coming from somewhere else. It was the fact that it seemed to have seen the same thing he did in Sansa that kept him from running out of the room and straight for the front door. If it wanted to help Sansa, it couldn’t possibly be evil… right?

Even though Jon had no idea what he, or it, was looking for, he was almost certain he had found it when his fingers brushed something hard and wooden on the top shelf of Sansa’s closet. A rush of excitement slithered up his spine, though he didn’t even know why he should be excited at all. Deep down, he knew that it wasn’t his excitement he was feeling, but that something else that was inside of him, but he refused to let his mind dwell on such a thought. He focused his attention, instead, on pulling the item down into the light, where he was able to see that the object that he had found was a small square jewelry box, barely the length of his forefinger. The lid was held closed by lots and lots of silver duct tape – a freakish amount if he was being honest with himself. It was only when Jon actually got a good look at the actual jewelry box beneath the tape, that he remembered where he had last seen it: it was in Sansa’s grasp on the day of her twelfth birthday – the one where she had seemingly lost Arya Underfoot.

“Are you in there?” Jon questioned the box as his mind starting piecing together a picture that was forming in his brain, not really caring that he was possibly addressing Sansa’s long-lost imaginary friend, something he had never believed in before. But considering what he had heard inside his head, he wasn’t sure that it was completely out of the realm of probability anymore. “Are you in there, Arya Underfoot?”

There was nothing but silence in response to his question, making Jon think that he had imagined everything and he was now invading Sansa’s privacy for no other reason than his own feigned belief that she needed rescuing. He left the room hastily, careful to close the door behind him, but despite his irritable thoughts on why he had allowed himself to go to her room, he found that he still had the taped jewelry box clutched tight in his hand, though he didn’t know why he chose to keep it.

When he descended the steps, he was shocked to find Sansa standing at the foot of the staircase, staring out at something that he couldn’t yet see. It was only when he was a step above her, and his view was no longer obstructed by the banister, that Jon was able to look out and see that she was watching her fiancé mingle amongst a small group of people. The group consisted mostly of women, and all of them seemed to have taken the same path as Robb, imbibing as much drink as possible, because two of the women, whose names Jon didn’t know and didn’t really care to find out, were draping themselves over Harry like coats being flung on a coat rack. The truly infuriating part of it all, however, was the fact that the man seemed to revel in the drunken attention as he openly flirted with the soused females, not seeming to care that he was doing it in front of his own fiancée. Jon didn’t understand how Sansa could just stand back and let it happen.

“Harry’s always been a very… tactile person,” Sansa remarked sullenly, her voice giving little inflection in spite of the implication. Jon was incensed on her behalf.

“Mother says that men like Harry tend to be like that but that they stop once they get married.” She raised the full glass of arbor gold in her hand to her lips and drained the golden liquid in one go. “I  suppose she is just saying that because the wedding invitations to hers and Dad’s friends have already been sent out, and there’s no way she would ever let me bear the scandal of pulling out of this arrangement now.”

Jon scoffed; his lips turned down into a frown. “Don’t be ridiculous. If she knew that her daughter was marrying a philanderer, Catelyn would castrate him herself with her bare hands. I don’t think you’re giving your mother enough credit.”

Sansa shrugged her shoulders, a tell that she was veering toward drunkenness herself. “Harry’s a flirt, but he’s not a cheater, Jon. He wouldn’t do that to me,” she said, staring hard at the ground, proving that she didn’t really believe the things she was saying.

“Sansa –“ Jon began, ready to both reprimand and console her, but Sansa held her hand up, begging for him to stop.

“I know you may think I’m weak for saying this, but… I have to choose to see the best in Harry because he’s the best that I’m probably going to find. I just need to do a better job of hiding my insecurities toward him, is all.”

Shaking his head, Jon reached out and grabbed Sansa’s free hand, clutching it tightly in his own. “I don’t care about him, Sansa. I only care about you,” he declared firmly, squeezing her hand tightly in his own. “The only thing I want is for you to be happy, and if that asshole doesn’t do it for you, then I don’t want you to be with him anymore, let alone marrying him.”

Her eyes started to glisten as she stared first at her hand in his and then lifted her gaze to meet his own. “I wish I was brave enough to fight for happiness, Jon,” she whispered quietly, her words barely audible over the din of the other people in the room. “I’m almost certain I know where I would be able to find it.”

Jon wanted nothing more than to just lean forward and press his lips to hers, but Sansa was already pulling her hand from his as she took a step back away from him. “Unfortunately, I don’t think I’m made for happiness, and so that means I have to stick with the sure-thing I’ve got.”

A single tear slid from the corner of her eye, down her cheek. She wiped it away swiftly as she forced a smile back onto her lips – the disconnect from her lips and her eyes more evident than ever. She then turned and started heading back to the room.

“Sansa, wait!” Jon called out for her, running to her. He almost feared that she wouldn’t listen, but just as he reached her, she stopped, though she refused to actually look at him. So, instead, he took her hand in his instead.

“You are made for happiness, and when you’re ready to accept that, you know where you can always find me,” he declared, and with that, he slipped the taped-up jewelry box in her hand and closed her fingers over it to secure it against her palm. With it, he hoped that he gave her some of the strength he once possessed.

Sansa’s brow furrowed when she looked down at what he had given her, but Jon couldn’t bear to stay in the same room as that fake smile one minute longer. Releasing her hand, he gave her one last parting smile before turning and finally walking out of the front door, the cold Northern air cooling the tears that were already beginning to fall down his face.

 2 Weeks Later

The call came at three in the morning. Jon nearly knocked his cell phone off his nightstand in his blind attempt to shut it up, but sleep had faded enough by the time he actually grabbed a hold of it to prevent him from throwing the phone across the room. With his mind slowly leaving the semi-fogged state, he looked at the caller id to see that it was from Robb. Pressing answer, he raised the phone to his ear with a grumbled hello.

“Jon?” Robb called out, his voice filled with a frenzied panic that snapped Jon the rest of the way out of sleep’s grasp. “Gods, please tell me you’re up! It’s an emergency.”

“Wh-what is it?” Jon questioned, immediately sitting up in his bed, fully awake. “Are the boys okay? Are your parents? What’s wrong?”

“It’s Sansa, Jon!” Robb answered, making the blood freeze in Jon’s veins.

“Is she okay? Is she all right? What’s wrong? Where is she?” he demanded frantically as he felt his heart painfully freeze up inside his chest.

Robb didn’t seem to notice that Jon was on the verge of having a panic attack. His response was still desperate for him, but still somewhat subdued compared to how Jon was feeling. “Her fiancé’s dead, Jon. The asshole was getting a blowjob by some bimbo while he was driving around, and he somehow lost control of the car and drove it right off a mountain. Sansa just called me from home after she got the visit from the police.”

Jon’s nerves were somewhat less frazzled with the news that Sansa had been well enough to call Robb, but hearing that her fiancé had died like that only made him irate.

“Sansa’s at their house, but to make matters worse, the asshole filmed himself doing all of that crap just before he died, and somehow the video got posted to all of his social media accounts, so everyone now knows that he’s a dick and that he died being one. If he wasn’t dead already, I would murder him!”

Even though Jon had never liked the bloke, he couldn’t help but feel remorse at the fact that a man had lost his life. It just felt overwhelming that something like that would happen to her when she was so determined to make a go of it with him. Deep down he was relieved that she didn’t have to anymore.

“You’re right, the guy’s a dick, Robb. Still, I’m so sorry to hear that Sansa has to go through all of that,” he said, hoping he sounded the right amount of remorseful and disgust  despite the fact that he was overcome with an overpowering sense of relief.

“Yeah, well… Sansa is really shaken up. She’s at the police station, but my parents are flying out right now to go get her… They just want her home, now more than anything. I just needed to talk to someone to keep myself from going crazy thinking about how things have gone for her. She didn’t deserve this.”

Jon stayed on the phone for a few more minutes, soothing his best friend and assuring him that everything would be okay before he had relaxed Robb enough for him to try going back to sleep. After hanging up the phone, however, sleep was the very last thing on his mind. Now, more than ever, he was concerned about Sansa, but also about the events that had led up to her fiancé dying.

Did he have a part to play in it? A niggling thought made itself known in the back of Jon’s mind. His memory flashed back to the box he had placed in Sansa’s hand and the voice he had heard in the back of his head. She needs me. Did what he does lead up to this?

As though she had read his mind, despite being hundreds of miles away from him, Sansa’s name appeared on the screen of his phone, though it was a text rather than a phone call. Jon didn’t know why, but his fingers shook as he opened the message, as though he just knew that it was going to shake his entire world up.

Sansa: I’m sure you’ve heard by now. I guess you not only see everything, but you’re right about everything, too.

 Jon: I didn’t want to be right like this. I hope you know that. You deserved so much better than Harry. You always did

 A couple of minutes passed, though they felt like hours to Jon who wanted some kind of assurance that he didn’t sound like a complete ass to someone who had just lost her fiancé, even though he had died while he was cheating on her. Finally, he received another notification saying he had received another text from her, which he opened eagerly.

 Sansa: Arya Underfoot seemed to have agreed with you, Jon.

 Frowning, confused, Jon stared at her message for a long moment, trying to grasp what it was she was trying to say.

 Jon: What exactly does that mean, Sansa?

 Sansa: I think you know what I mean already, Jon. Why else would you have given her back to me?

 Jon: Are you saying that she… that tonight was because of her?

 Sansa: I can’t say for sure… but she did tell me that she didn’t want me to be with Harry. I’m pretty sure she may have made Harry swerve off the road tonight because right before she said she was going to leave me for good, and she told me that I needed to be brave soon. I think with the accident, that’s what she meant.

 Before Jon could even fathom how to respond to that, another text notification came in for him to open.

 Sansa: I think I’m ready to be happy now, Jon.

  3 Years Later

Jon ran into the hospital with panic etched on his face and anxiety drilling into his heart.  A last minute meeting had made him miss the calls from his wife that she had gone into labor and had been rushed to the hospital by her mother. By the time he had gotten out of his meeting, he found out that she had delivered the baby, and they were both healthy.

Walking into the room where his wife and newborn baby were sleeping, Jon went to her bedside and covered his wife’s face in kisses until her eyes fluttered open. He then kissed her lips desperately, both in gratitude for being so strong and bringing their child into the world and for allowing him to be the one to give her the happiness he had once promised her.

“Have you seen the baby yet?” Sansa finally questioned once she managed to push him back enough for her to speak.

Jon shot a furtive glance to the bassinet, his eyes already misting as he reluctantly walked away from his wife to peer at the child that she and he had made. He didn’t stop until he was peering down at the tiny, slumbering form, his vision blurring by the rush of tears that were beginning to build up in his eyes at the mere sight of the precious bundle.

“Congratulations, Daddy, it’s a baby girl,” Sansa cooed from her hospital bed, her own eyes wet as she watched him.

“A girl?” Jon asked as he knelt down to bring his face closer to his daughter’s. “Really?”

Sansa grinned and nodded happily. “She’s practically perfect already, but she has a pair of lungs on her that the nurses say always wakes up the other babies in the nursery, so I just told them to let her stay with me because I don’t mind hearing her voice.”

Jon chuckled and wiped at his eyes before reaching down and gently lifting the small bundle into his arms. The baby gurgled and grumbled a little at being shifted, but she stayed asleep as Jon cradled her in the crook of his arm and pressed a kiss to her brow.

“Did you name her yet?” he asked Sansa as he started to rock his daughter despite her already being asleep.

“I wanted to wait for you to come before I did.”

Jon didn’t want to ever put her down, but it wasn’t long before she woke up crying, ready to be fed and he had to relinquish her to Sansa, though he sat right next to her to watch the baby feed. With her awake, he was able to see more of her features and it was a bit starling to see that she had his eyes and his hair. He was a little disappointed that she didn’t take more after Sansa, but as he looked down at her, he couldn’t help but think that she was still absolutely perfect just the way she was. Also, in addition to the strong resemblance to him, there was something about her that felt oddly… familiar about her.

“Did you have any names picked out that you wanted to name her?” he asked his wife, who was staring lovingly at their daughter as she fed her.

Sansa looked up from the baby for a second to look into his eyes with a shy smile before she hesitantly shook her head ‘no’. But Jon didn’t quite believe her. Still, he felt like there was already a name building up on his tongue, ready for him to just open his lips and speak it aloud.

“What would you say… to calling her Arya?”

The relieved sigh that left Sansa’s lips was more than confirmation enough for him that he had made the right choice.

“How did you know I wanted to call her that?” Sansa asked softly as she pulled him down to her so she could kiss him.

Jon shrugged, not sure how he could explain his own strange connection to her strange imaginary friend. “She just looked like an Arya to me, I guess. What about you?”

“Well, Arya Underfoot was already grown when I first saw her, but looking at our Arya…I can’t help but think that they’re going to be identical. Does that make this even weirder for you?”

“Considering the roll she played in getting us together, I’m not sure I can disagree at all, love,” Jon confessed quietly. “All I can say is she’s here with us now, and that’s all that matters. And because we brought her here, together, we’re going to make sure she has the happiest life that we can possibly give her.”

Sansa pulled him down for another kiss, but before Jon could deepen it, Arya finished feeding and was letting the milk drop onto her face. She started to whimper as Sansa gently cleaned her face up and then pressed delicate kisses on her forehead.

“Welcome to the world, Arya Underfoot,” Sansa whispered softly into the baby’s ear, just loud enough for Jon to hear. “You gave me the world, and now I promise I’m going to give the world back to you.”

Jon squeezed both of his girls to him and kissed both of their heads gently before staring at his daughter lovingly. “Welcome home, Arya Stark.”

[noorakardemmomesaetre]

The Jack-O-Gram 

Or read it on AO3 

Pairing: Betty x Jughead 

Summary: The Jack-O-Gram has become the perfect way for Riverdale High students to express their feelings for someone special before the Halloween Banshee Bash at the end of the week. 

Betty can't help but hope she receives one from the only boy who's ever captured her heart, Jughead Jones.

She’s sifting through her locker when she hears the sound that never fails to spread a warmth through her chest.

Silence.  

Jughead Jones is making his way through Riverdale High’s entrance doors with the blasé attitude of someone who simply can’t be bothered. The large Serpent emblem stitched across the back of his jacket serves as a warning to those students brave enough to steal a glance in his direction.

But Betty can’t help herself and his newly established Serpent status has done nothing but intrigue her further.

He’s beautiful.  

But not in the conventional way that Veronica gushes about those men from the magazines she pours over when she hangs out in Betty’s bedroom.

He’s beautiful in the way that makes Betty’s breath catch in her throat when he genuinely laughs at something his friends say.

He’s beautiful in the way that makes the tips of Betty’s ears redden when he catches her eye from across the hall, a playful smirk on his face.

And he’s beautiful now as he runs his fingers through his dark waves before tugging his worn, crown beanie on in an attempt to tame them.

She feels as though she’s in a bit of a daze, her hand still reaching absentmindedly into her locker as she takes him in.

Until his gaze suddenly shifts to meet hers.

She immediately turns, cursing herself for getting caught up in such an obvious moment of complete infatuation and begins shoving her books around in an attempt to look busy.

It’s only when chatter erupts in the hallways once again that she knows he’s gone and she takes a moment to close her locker and press her forehead against the cool metal.

“Be more obvious next time, Betty, really,” she breathes to herself as she calms her pounding heart.

“Am I interrupting something, Cooper?”

His voice has her wondering if walking into traffic would be a good enough reason for her to never show her face at Riverdale High again? In fact, perhaps she should just board a flight and leave the country.

“Of course not,” she says quickly, turning to face him while pressing her pastel pink binder tightly to her chest. “It’s just usually quiet when you get here...you’re like all anyone sees.”

He tilts his head at that, his eyes searching her face, and she nervously tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Was it really necessary for him to be standing this close to her?

“Anyways. Can I help you with something, Jones?”

He shoves his hands into his jacket pockets and casually leans against her closed locker door as if the Serpent Prince talking to Betty Cooper is something that occurs all the time.

It doesn’t.

“No, actually,” he finally responds, glancing around the emptying hallway before turning back to her. “I just wanted to tell you thanks for that article you wrote for the Blue and Gold. It was written well and with an interesting perspective.”

A heat crawls up the column of her neck as she works through the fact that he’s complimenting her. About her writing. The one thing she cares about.

“Oh, no, it was my - I mean, thank you for, you know, that’s so sweet of you to say,” she’s stumbling over her words again and he looks down, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth to keep from smiling.

“Alright, well-” he stops and his eyes narrow ever so slightly and Betty prays she doesn’t have smeared lipstick across her face or something in her teeth. Why did she have to eat that spinach omelette this morning?!

He reaches out, gently pulling off a small leaf that had fallen atop her head, his face inches from hers. She feels her breath catch as his gaze lingers on her lips for more than a brief second.

But then the school bell pierces the air, signaling that they are officially late to class and Betty motions past him. “I better get to class-”

“Yeah, me too. I guess I’ll see you around?”

She smiles coyly, her ponytail swinging lightly behind her as she moves past him. Her cheeks are burning and she can only hope it looks like she overdid it with the blush today and not like she can’t even be two feet from him without needing an ice bath.

“Oh, and Cooper,” he calls out and she turns around so quickly the ends of her ponytail smack her cheek.

“Happy Halloween.”

_________________

“Betty dearest, you have not sent a Jack-O-Gram since the Reggie Mantle Fiasco of freshman year.”

“We’ve nicknamed the first and only time I’ve sent a Jack-O-Gram a ‘fiasco’ and you’re really expecting me to send another?”

Cheryl purses her cherry red lips before sharing a look with Veronica. They are standing behind the Jack-O-Gram booth Cheryl had spared no expense in having built and set up in the main hallway of Riverdale High. It costs one dollar to send a Jack-O-Gram, or a pumpkin shaped piece of paper with a king sized candy bar tied together with dark green ribbon, and all proceeds go to the prom budget, of course.

The booth had become a wild success their freshman year and Cheryl had quickly taken over management, having already been part of the prom committee though she wasn’t old enough to attend.

What had started under the guise of a friendly Halloween-themed gram had quickly become a way for one to express his or her feelings for someone before the Banshee Bash dance at the end of the week.

Betty has always received one from their other best friend, Kevin Keller, but with it being their senior year they had come to the mutual decision that they should pursue actual Banshee Bash dates.

Or, Kevin had wanted desperately to send one to Fangs Fogarty and Betty couldn’t bear to stand in his way.

Even if the only person who had ever sparked her interest wouldn’t touch a Northsider with a 10 foot pole.

“B, this is the perfect year to send one to Jughead! You even said he complimented your writing this morning!” Veronica is writing the longest Jack-O-Gram Betty has ever seen to her long-time boyfriend, Archie.

As if they aren’t already planning to attend the Bash together.

“If you don’t write one to him, I will.”

Betty’s eyes widen as Cheryl uncaps her pen and pulls the orange scrap of pumpkin shaped paper to herself.

“No, Cher, seriously-“

“‘Dear Jones’ see, this is already convincing since you two refuse to acknowledge you have first names-“

Veronica snorts into her latte and Betty frantically reaches for the pen Cheryl’s using to continue her note.

“‘If you’ve been wondering why I take extraaaa long at my locker in the morning, it’s so I can stare at your slim yet proportionately toned ass-‘“

“Cheryl, I swear, give me-“

Cheryl jumps up, twirling out of Betty’s reach as Veronica giggles. She’s tying her little green bow around her orange pumpkin cut out, clearly amused.

“Did I miss something?” Toni Topaz asks through a giggle, putting her hands up to catch Cheryl who is still currently avoiding Betty’s reach.

Cheryl immediately rights herself, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she puts down the pen and scrap of paper so she can focus her full attention on Toni.

But Betty’s eyes widen as she sees Toni lean over to read the scrap of paper, her smile widening. “Someone’s going to send Jughead a Jack-O-Gram?”

“No!”

“Yes.”

Betty shoots Veronica a glare so intense she’s surprised lasers aren’t shooting out of her eyes. Veronica flashes her an innocent smile as she reaches for Archie’s favorite candy bar.

“He did mention something about sending one this year,” she says with a shrug as if Betty isn’t suddenly hanging on to her every word.

“Are you planning to send one this year?” Cheryl asks softly, reorganizing the markers and candy bars.

“I might be.” Toni twirls one of her pastel pink waves around her finger as she watches Cheryl work.

Veronica catches Betty’s eye, arching an eyebrow suggestively and Betty can’t help but laugh quietly to herself.

“If you do decide to send one to a Banshee Bash prospect...the cost is one dollar,” Cheryl says, as if there isn’t huge signs staple gunned to the booth with that exact information.

“Sounds like a worthy expenditure,” Toni says, offering Cheryl a sweet smile before she turns on her heel and makes her way down the hallway. Cheryl remains fixated on Toni’s retreating back and Betty takes the opportunity to lean across the booth and grab the orange piece of paper she’d been writing to Jughead on.

She tears it up and tosses the pieces in the trash as Cheryl mumbles something about her need to “catch a dick.”

_______________________

On Tuesday, she remains undecided about whether or not she’d like to send Jughead the Jack-O-Gram. She could play if off. Write something simple. Or anonymous! That way, if he shows up at the dance and looks disappointed when he sees her, she can pretend she didn’t write him one at all.

Seems simple enough! And yet...

Kevin sends Fangs his gram in their AP Calculus class and Betty doesn’t miss the way Kevin’s entire face lights up when Fangs grins and nods in excitement.

Wednesday has Betty standing near the booth, still deciding on exactly what she would say to him if she sent anything at all, when Jughead appears next to her.

His fingers run along one of the pumpkin papers and Betty pretends not to notice, though she’s hyper aware of his every movement.

“Would you like to buy one, Jughead?” Veronica asks brightly, pushing one of the markers in his direction in a not so subtle hint.

Jughead taps his finger along the tabletop before he glances at Betty. “Are you buying one, Cooper?”

“Oh, um, I might.”

“What? Who’s the lucky guy, Betty?” Kevin asks excitedly, hopping up to sit on the booth table top next to Betty.

Jughead’s gaze has not left hers and the intensity of it is only making her wish she hadn’t worn such a dense sweater today.

“Are you going to send one?” she finally asks, ignoring Kevin’s disappointed sigh.

Jughead glances down at the pumpkin papers one more time before shaking his head. “I don’t know, this isn’t really my thing.”

His friends call him over in that moment and he gives Betty and Veronica a half-hearted wave before heading over to them.

Kevin and Cheryl are already chatting amongst themselves about what they’re planning to wear to the Bash and Betty excuses herself, her heart having dropped to her stomach.

Thursday morning, Veronica receives 10 Jack-O-Grams at once and she’s positively glowing as she tries to manage them all on her tiny school desk. Archie has written sweet compliments on each one and Betty couldn’t be happier for her best friend.

Couldn’t. Be. Happier. She thinks to herself as she stares down at her empty, gramless desk.

In fourth period, the grams are delivered again and Cheryl receives one that has her smiling more genuinely than Betty’s ever seen. She clutches the orange piece of paper to her chest and giggles happily in Betty’s direction.

“Toni Topaz is taking me to the Banshee Bash. Can you believe?” she whispers, channeling her inner Jonathan Van Ness, and Betty laughs because yes, she can definitely believe.

She’s heading to her locker to drop her books off before lunch when she sees him making his way down the hallway. He has his headphones on, lost in his own world, and she can’t help but admire the way the headphones rest against his worn crown beanie. As though they belong there.

His fingers brush hers as they pass each other.

Her heart slams against her chest and she turns her head, attempting to see if he’d noticed the touch as much as she had. If he’d felt that.  

His hands are now shoved in his jacket pockets.

On Friday, Betty has officially decided she will not be sending anyone a Jack-O-Gram. She’d rather bury her feelings for Jughead so deeply she can’t remember they exist and attend the Banshee Bash with her friends. Who all have dates. Wonderful.  

But as each class passes and as the last of the grams are handed out, she can’t pretend she isn’t a little disappointed. She knows, deep down, she had hoped he’d send her one. Even just as a friend.

Okay, maybe not as a friend.

During her last class, the gram deliverer arrives, a freshman student wearing cat ears and an excited smile. Betty sits forward, stealing a glance at Veronica who flashes her a hopeful smile.

“Reggie Mantle?”

“Another one?” he grins cockily, reaching out to accept his gram and immediately ripping open the Snickers bar.

“Ethel Muggs?”

Ethel accepts her gram, a shy smile on her face as she reads the note.

“And…” The freshman is now squinting her eyes to make out the name. “Oh...another one for Reggie.”

Reggie laughs, high fiving a few Bulldogs next to him before getting up once again to receive his gram. Betty sits back, tears pricking the corners of her eyes and she realizes she could not feel more pathetic. Veronica reaches over, squeezing her forearm in a supportive and affectionate gesture. Betty blinks rapidly before flashing her a bright, Betty Cooper smile, accepting that that was that.

She would not be receiving a Jack-O-Gram from anyone, but especially not from Jughead Jones.

Class ends and Betty couldn’t be more relieved. Forget the Banshee Bash. Forget Halloween. She’s going to head home, draw a hot bath, and binge watch Anne with an E. At least Gilbert and Anne will give her some kind of reassurance that romance isn’t completely dead.

She reassures Veronica a dozen times that she’s fine before Veronica finally leaves her to assist Cheryl with the packing up of the booth.

Opening her locker, she wipes the wetness from under her eyes and reaches into her backpack to tug out the books she won’t be needing this weekend.

It’s when she finally brings herself to look into her locker that her mouth falls open.

Inside lies a beautiful orange origami flower taped atop a dark green piece of paper. Betty’s fingers shake as she reaches inside to pull it out, her eyes wide as she looks at how intricately it was made.

“Like I said, Jack-O-Grams aren’t really my thing.”

She shakes her head, the smile on her face one of genuine happiness and awe. “It’s so beautiful, Jughead, you made this?”

He shrugs as if it’s no big deal, but she notices the way his fingers pinch one of the tips of his worn crown beanie and she can tell he’s nervous. Nervous to be around her. Betty Cooper.

“My little sister, Jellybean, helped me make it,” he says softly, watching her gaze at the flower as though she’s never received anything so beautiful in her entire life. “She said something about me needing to make a bigger gesture than the gram since I-”

He stops short and she finally tears her gaze away from the flower to find that his cheeks are now flushed and he’s still rolling a crown tip between his fingers.

“Since you what?”

He looks at her, searching her face the same way he had earlier that week, before his hand drops to his side and a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

“Since it’s always been you, Cooper. For me, it’s always been you.”

She doesn’t hesitate, standing on her tip-toes to throw her arms around his neck and press her lips against his. He’s surprised at first, but then she feels his hand cup her cheek as he deepens their kiss. She’s tasting the spearmint on his tongue for just a second before -

“Ah, but I didn’t send you anything, Jughead!” She immediately steps out of his arms, cursing herself for being so indecisive about the gram all week.

He chuckles, interweaving his fingers with hers before, much to her horror, he says, “Actually, I think your friend Cheryl sent me quite an explicit one on your behalf...”

____________

I hope you’ve all had a wonderful Halloween and have enjoyed this little holiday one shot! 

xx B

[violinsweetiemiss]

Phoenix Aurora (Jinyoung X OC) Chapter 5

Imperial Palace, Khanbaliq, Soyoung

Servants quickly fell to their feet as Jang Soyoung swept past in a flurry of motion, Jinyoung and Hyojun following closely behind her. In one fluid motion, Soyoung reached up and pulled out the hairpin that held her hair up in a man’s topknot, letting her long strands of hair fall loosely down around her shoulders. The court ministers turned and bowed as she swept into Mentality Hall, her face cold and serious.

“Your Majesty.” They intoned. Soyoung walked up the short flight of stairs to her seat, then looked at Jinyoung, who stood near the foot of the stairs looking rather lost. Raising one finger, she pointed at the elaborate chair that had already been placed just one step lower than her throne. Jinyoung stared at her in surprise, but Soyoung nodded calmly. Jinyoung hesitated for another moment, then walked up the steps and took the seat next to her. Soyoung turned and looked solemnly down at her court ministers.

“Now tell me.” She stated, “What has happened to Minister Han, and why is my fiance being accused of his murder?” One of the court officials stepped forward and bowed before speaking.

“Your Majesty, Lord Han was found dead in his study this morning.” He said, “Upon examination by a coroner, it was found that he died of poisoning at some point last night. After a thorough examination of his home, the only thing found to have been poisoned was a box of pastries on Lord Han’s desk.” Soyoung turned over the new information in her mind for a few moments before speaking.

“And that box was given to him by Jinyoung?” She asked, guessing where the rest of the story was going. The minister nodded.

“Lady Han, as well as many servants can bear witness to it.” He replied, “They all saw His Highness personally give the box to Lord Han.” Soyoung looked over at Jinyoung, who had turned pale. It was well known that Lord Han liked to eat pastries from a well known store in the capital; it was nothing out of the ordinary that Jinyoung had chosen to buy one as a gift to Lord Han. But to say that Jinyoung had put poison in the pastries? It was absolutely ridiculous.

“I believe my fiance was framed.” She replied without asking Jinyoung a single word, drawing startled murmurs from the officials below. 

“Your Majesty!” One official boldly protested, “We are all aware that Prince Jinyoung is your fiance, but as the ruler of the country, you cannot just blindly protect him!” The court officials jumped as Soyoung slammed her hand against her desk.

“It is precisely because I rule a country that I will not make any rash decisions!” She snapped, “Or, what do you expect me to do? Throw my future husband into prison on mere speculative grounds, and insult the entire Goryeo in the process? Or, even if Goryeo is not insulted, make the royal family a laughingstock for rushing the investigations and throwing a scapegoat into prison?” The court officials bowed their heads, none daring to answer. Soyoung’s gaze narrowed.

“This is no small matter.” She stated, “I will personally conduct an investigation into Lord Han’s murder. Until then, Park Jinyoung is not guilty of anything. If I hear that anyone dares to touch him…” She let the threat hang in the air unfinished, then rose to her feet.

“You are all dismissed.” She said coldly, then swept out of the room. 

________________________________________________________________

Jinyoung

Jinyoung followed closely behind Soyoung as she left the palace, his head bowed. As if he had been summoned, Eun-song appeared before long and followed them to the Empress’s rooms. The Empress was silent until they reached her quarters, then she shut the doors and turned to stare at Jinyoung.

“Why are you looking like that?” She asked, crossing her arms. Jinyoung swallowed hard.

“I...I am sorry for bringing trouble already.” He said quietly, “But I really did not kill Lord Han.” He was surprised to hear the Empress scoff at his statement.

“Park Jinyoung, oh Park Jinyoung.” She said, then Jinyoung’s breath caught in his throat as she reached out and tilted his chin up.

“Don’t you think I know that?” She asked, “I did not defend you in court simply because you’re my future husband. If I had even an inkling of belief that you had done it, I would not have let you freely walk out of Mentality Hall, even if you are my man.” Jinyoung gazed silently at the woman who would be his wife for a long moment, taking in the expression on her face. Despite the fact that her fiance had just been accused of murdering a high ranking court official, Jang Soyoung’s expression was calm, her gaze never wavering for even a moment as she gazed at Jinyoung. It was clear that before he had even said a word to defend himself, Jang Soyoung had already known that he hadn’t done it. Jinyoung gulped and took a step back out of her grasp. 

“What made you so certain?” He asked. Soyoung scoffed softly at the question.

“There are some things that don’t have to be expressly stated to be known, Park Jinyoung.” She replied, turning away and walking to her elaborate seat located at the center of the room. She dropped gracefully into the chair, one leg crossing over the other as she gazed across the room at Jinyoung. The way she was sitting caused the edge of the men’s clothing she was still wearing to ride up slightly at the slit cut into the side, and Jinyoung turned his head away slightly to avoid staring at the uncovered skin showing through the slight opening, his cheeks turning slightly red. A woman in Goryeo would have never been allowed to show her legs like that, not if she wanted to avoid being flogged on the legs by her parents! As if she noticed what his eyes were trying to avoid, Jang Soyoung sighed and uncrossed her legs.

“It is simple.” She said, “There is no way you could have known that Lord Han was one of the most outspoken against you in court on the day you arrived. Even if you did, your purpose in coming here is to marry me and maintain good relations between our countries. No matter how much you didn’t want to come here, you would not be so foolish as to risk inciting war between our countries. In short, there is no reason for you to murder a court official.” Jinyoung sighed in relief at her statement.

True to her long term experience in court, Jang Soyoung was not someone to be easily led into believing something. Before the court officials had even said a word, she had already analyzed the situation and come to her own conclusion. What mattered more now was to convince the rest of the court, and find out who had killed Lord Han and made Jinyoung the scapegoat. 

“I thank Your Majesty for your trust.” He said, bowing politely. One corner of Soyoung’s lips turned up into an amused smile.

“You are the man who will be my husband.” She stated, “If it was so easy to turn me against my own man, what sort of wife and ruler would I be?” Jinyoung gazed at her for a long moment, then shook his head with a soft chuckle.

“Even though a tiger is biting you, if you gain consciousness, you can live.” He said softly, the saying suddenly coming to mind. Soyoung raised an eyebrow.

“What?” She asked, looking for once, rather confused. Jinyoung bit back a soft laugh despite the circumstances.

“Keeping calm even in the face of despair.” He explained, “It is an old Korean proverb. The way Your Majesty is acting now, even when I have been accused of murder, just reminded me of that saying.” Soyoung gazed at him for a long moment before turning her head and laughing softly in amusement.

“You really are my little poet.” She said teasingly, her eyes twinkling in amusement. Jinyoung’s cheeks flushed red.

“I wish you’d stop calling me that.” He grumbled. Soyoung laughed again, but before she could say anything else, Jinyoung heard a soft cough from behind him and turned to see Eun-seong looking at the two of them with an amused smile on his boyish face.

“Royal Sister, if you and my future brother-in-law are done flirting, perhaps we should begin discussing a plan to deal with this matter.” He suggested. Jinyoung’s cheeks flushed hot again, and Soyoung almost choked on the tea she was drinking. 

“Eun-seong!” She scolded, “I am not flirting. Please!” Eun-seong laughed softly. 

“If you say so, Sister.” He replied, “But I can assure you I’m not the only one who thinks that way.” The prince nodded towards Hyojun, who was standing near Soyoung as always. The young guard turned his head away slightly as the attention was shifted towards him, and he coughed softly in an awkward attempt to hide a laugh. Soyoung cleared her throat and shook her head. Jinyoung peered curiously at the Empress.

Are her cheeks pink?

“In any event.” Soyoung said quickly, changing the topic, “Park Jinyoung, tell me what happened on the day you went to visit Lord Han. Did the box of pastries ever leave your hands?” Jinyoung thought for a moment, then shook his head.

“It is more sincere if I handed the box to him directly.” He said, “I never let the box out of my sight, from the moment I bought it from the store until I handed the gift to Lord Han.” 

“Your Majesty, I can go and investigate the pastry shop if you’d like.” Hyojun offered. Soyoung raised a hand and shook her head.

“No.” She replied, “I do not want this to spread throughout the city. The last thing I need are rumors that my future husband is a murderer just weeks before the royal wedding. The pastry shop is an old staple in the city; I highly doubt they would take such a risk as going through all the effort to put poison in a pastry box and frame a foreign prince. No amount of money could buy that.” 

“Which means…” Jinyoung thought for a moment, “The poison must have been put in there after I gave the gift to Lord Han.” A serious expression took over Soyoung’s face.

“An insider from the Han family dares to kill off their patriarch and frame the future prince consort?” She said softly, “This matter is more complicated than I imagined.”

“Sister, could it have been Royal Uncle behind all of this?” Eun-seong asked, “It would be the perfect opportunity to get rid of your marriage prospects.” Soyoung shook her head.

“No.” She replied, “It’s still too early. He doesn’t have a good grasp on what Jinyoung is capable of yet, so he wouldn’t risk it so soon.” Soyoung looked over at Hyojun.

“Come with me to Han mansion.” She said, “I will interrogate each member of the household individually.” Jinyoung thought quickly as he heard the Empress’s order. As much as he didn’t like being here, this was where he would be for a long time to come. If he wanted to survive, he would have to establish himself. And to do that, he couldn’t hide behind the Empress’s power forever.

“Your Majesty.” He said, “If I may interrupt.” Soyoung looked over at him and motioned for him to continue. Jinyoung hesitated for a moment before charging ahead with his request.

“If I may...I would like to investigate this matter on my own.” He said, “If you appear, perhaps no one would dare to lie, and perhaps you will be able to find the true culprit. But what will people say about the royal family? They will only spread rumors that the future Prince Consort doesn’t know how to do anything but hide behind the Empress’s power and protection. I do not want to hide behind Your Majesty’s power forever, nor do I want the royal family to appear weak because of me.” Soyoung gazed at him for a long moment, a curious look on her face as she turned his words over in her mind. Then, a small smirk turned up the corner of her lips. 

“Very well.” She said, “I will grant your request. However, you should not do this entirely on your own.” Jinyoung frowned in confusion as she took out a sheet of paper and wrote out a couple lines of characters on the crisp cream surface. 

“Go to this address and ask for the owner of this business.” She said, holding it out to him, “This person should be of aid to you.” Jinyoung’s confusion deepened as he took the paper and looked at the sharp black ink strokes sweeping across the sheet. 

“But...who is this?” He asked. Jang Soyoung smiled mysteriously.

“I’ve heard this man is known as a jack of all trades.” She replied, “He is not connected to the royal family, so his presence should not create any trouble. He should be helpful to you in your investigation.” 

“Isn’t there a risk that this person will tell others what happened?” Jinyoung asked, tilting his head curiously. 

“Perhaps others will.” The empress replied, “But this person will not.” Before Jinyoung could ask anything else, she picked up a gold plated petition from the stack on the table next to her and flipped it open.

“You should get going now.” Soyoung stated, signaling that this conversion was over. Jinyoung sighed and bowed politely.

“I will take my leave now.” He stated. Jinyoung sighed as he stepped outside of the empress’s quarters and looked down at the paper in his hand. Despite his best efforts, he hadn’t managed to get even an inkling of information about the person he was supposed to meet. The empress had a knowing look in her eye as she had spoken, but she hadn’t bothered to give him even a crumb of information on this person. Just who was it that she was so certain he could trust? And why wouldn’t she tell him anything?

What a mysterious woman.

Were all rulers like that? Jinyoung hadn’t gotten such an impression from his father. But then, he had never been one to talk politics with his father, nor had his life and reputation been on the line while he was in Goryeo. 

Still, Jinyoung was grateful she had given him the freedom to investigate the matter on his own. Sighing, he rolled up the paper in his hands and headed for the palace gates. There was no time to waste.

___________________________________________________________________________

Soyoung’s dark eyes flickered slightly away from her petition and towards the door as the paper and wood panels slipped shut behind the Goryeo prince. A soft smile turned up the corner of her lips as she thought back on the prince’s sudden request. It wasn’t what she had expected, that was for sure. A prince who was suddenly thrown into a new world and accused of murder would usually be afraid and cling onto the nearest source of protection like a drowning man to a plank of wood. But instead, Park Jinyoung had boldly asked to investigate the accusations on his own. 

I wasn’t wrong. He has an intelligent head on his shoulders. 

It was clear that he understood the possible consequences of this incident on the Goryeo royal family, his position in both countries, and on the Yuan royals as well. 

“My lady, who did you send him to?” Hyojun asked curiously, “It is rare to see you trust someone that much.” Soyoung smirked slightly.

“Are you referring to my trust to the prince or the person I sent him to?” She asked. 

“I would say both, My Lady.” Hyojun replied. Soyoung smiled faintly.

“The person I sent him to will not betray him.” She replied, “His background will prevent him from doing so. As for the prince...there is no reason to distrust his honesty at the moment.” 

“But, My Lady, who-” Hyojun started again, but Soyoung cut him off.

“Hyojun, you are oddly curious about the reasons behind my actions today.” She noted, “Is something wrong?” Hyojun’s eyes widened slightly, and he dipped his head quickly.

“My apologies, Your Majesty.” He replied, “I spoke too much.” Soyoung sighed and shook her head.

“You can step outside now.” She said, “I will be reading these petitions for a while.” Hyojun bowed obediently at her order. 

“Yes, Your Majesty. I will take my leave.” He said. Soyoung watched as the young guard stepped outside of the room and shut the doors behind him. 

Park Jinyoung...I hope you can prove yourself.

Im Hyojun...please don’t ever give me a reason to lose my trust in you.

____________________________________________________________________________

Jinyoung

Jinyoung wandered slowly along the bustling streets of the Khanbaliq marketplace, his eyes scanning the buildings carefully for the address he had been sent to. 

Aha.

His footsteps slowed as his gaze fell on a simple wood and brick building near the end of the marketplace. It was a modest building, nothing particularly elaborate. Just who lived here that the empress herself would tell Jinyoung to go there? Jinyoung frowned in confusion as he neared the building. 

Why are there so many women milling around the entrance?

Noblewomen and commoners alike were gathered around the entrance, as if waiting for something to appear. Then, the doors opened, and Jinyoung realized they weren’t waiting for something.

Rather, they were waiting for a certain someone.

A group of young children appeared at the front door as it opened, all dressed in the same white and blue uniform. But from what Jinyoung could see, the children weren’t what the women were waiting for. 

Instead, it was the young man standing behind the excited group of children. He was a handsome slender man, with a slightly sloping nose and a dashing gently sculpted face. His hair was tied up into a simple topknot, a dark blue uniform emphasizing the well toned muscles beneath the surface of the simple cloth. He had dark golden brown eyes that sparkled as the sunlight caught onto them, and his lips turned up in a warm smile as he bid the children goodbye.

“Goodbye teacher!” The children chirped as they bowed to him. The young man grinned and waved cheerfully at the children.

“Hurry along home now!” He said, “I will see you all tomorrow.” The children dashed off happily, chattering as they went. The young man caught sight of the women waiting outside, and a charming but shy smile crossed his lips as he bowed politely.

“Ladies, you are waiting out here today as well?” He said, “You must not do this tomorrow. What if any of you faint? The sun is also so bad for your skin! My heart will ache if any of you are hurt because of me!” The young women swooned at his charming smile and sweet words. 

“Young Master Wang, we do not mind!” 

“Yes, Young Master Wang, we must see you at least once a day!” 

Their voices chorused happily in the air, delighted just to have the young man address them once. The young man, Young Master Wang, grinned and bowed.

“I thank you beautiful ladies for coming to see me every day!” He said, “I will certainly find a way to repay all of your affection!” Jinyoung shook his head as the women all blushed at his words. The people of Yuan were certainly very different from Goryeo. If any noblewomen were caught openly staring at a man like this, she could have her very reputation on the line! Was this the man that the empress had wanted him to see? 

Suddenly, Jinyoung found himself staring at a pair of golden brown eyes, and with a start he realized that the young man was staring at him. He frowned in confusion, unsure what was happening. Had he been recognized? Did this man know he was the future prince consort? 

Then, the young man’s face broke out into a friendly smile, and Jinyoung yelped in surprise as the man ran forward and enveloped him into a warm hug. 

“It’s been too long!” He exclaimed, “What took you so long?” Jinyoung spluttered in confusion as the man pulled away.

“Do I know you?” He asked, thoroughly perplexed. The young women chattered around them in hushed tones, wondering who this person was who had so easily received a hug from the young man they admired so much. The young man laughed.

“Come on, we’ll talk inside!” He grasped Jinyoung by the arm and pulled him into the building. As much as Jinyoung tried to refuse, Young Master Wang was stronger than he looked. 

Or perhaps I’m just too weak?

Before Jinyoung could wrap his head around what was happening, Young Master Wang called out a goodbye to the women outside, and flashed them another warm smile before shutting the front door behind him. 

“Come come.” He shoved Jinyoung towards the front room, quickly plunking him down into a chair. Jinyoung stared at the young man, feeling ridiculously flabbergasted. 

“Just who are you?” He demanded, “Why did you drag me in here?” The young man huffed as he sat down in another chair across from Jinyoung. 

“Park Jinyoung!” He barked, “You forgot me already? That’s so rude! I was so excited to hear that you were in the capital too!” Jinyoung’s jaw dropped at the casual way the  young man addressed him. No one except for his family had the nerve to call him by his full name; even Youngjae and Yugyeom made sure to call him by his formal title outside of the palace. The young man scoffed at what was surely Jinyoung’s deepening confusion spreading over his face. 

“I’m so hurt.” He said with a pout, “We were so close as children too! We used to sneak into the royal infirmary together!” Jinyoung frowned deeply as he thought over what the other young man was saying.

Wait...the royal infirmary?

Jinyoung closed his eyes and thought back carefully on his childhood memories. They had grown faint over the years as he grew up, but if he thought about it carefully...he could just barely remember a young child about his age who often appeared in the palace to play with him. Or rather, they would run around creating havoc, mostly instigated by the other young boy’s mischievous ideas. If Jinyoung remembered correctly, that boy’s name had been…

“Wang Jia’er!” He exclaimed, his eyes snapping open as the name finally floated up in his memories. The young man beamed as Jinyoung finally voiced the name.

“You finally remember!” He said in delight, “I was about to be so sad if you forgot!” Jinyoung scoffed.

“It’s been years since I saw you!” He protested, “It’s only natural if I forgot, right?” As a young child, Wang Jia’er had been one of his closest friends. Although his family hailed from Yuan rather than Goryeo, Wang Jia’er’s grandfather had been one of the most skilled royal doctors in Goryeo history. It was only natural that his grandson, who was about the same age as Jinyoung, would be introduced to Jinyoung as a childhood playmate. Until the day when Jia’er’s grandfather retired from his post at the royal infirmary, the two boys had been the closest of friends. After his grandfather’s retirement, however, the entire family had moved back to Yuan, and Jinyoung hadn’t seen Jia’er again. Jia’er reached over and punched him lightly on the arm.

“Yes yes, whatever the future Prince Consort says is always right.” He said, a teasing grin on his face. Jinyoung scoffed.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He said, “I didn’t ask for this.” Jia’er chuckled.

“Whatever you say.” He replied, “But what brings you all the way here to my humble academy?” Jinyoung sighed.

“It’s a long story.” He replied. Jia’er smiled and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.

“I’ve got time.” He answered. And so, Jinyoung found himself telling Jia’er about everything that had happened, from the time the empress had arrived in Goryeo up through Lord Han’s death. Jia’er’s handsome face fell into a frown as he listened to Jinyoung, a perplexed look crossing his face. 

“That’s ridiculous.” He said, “Anyone who believes it’s you who killed him would be an absolute fool. It’s political suicide if you actually did it.” Jinyoung laughed softly.

“If only everyone thought the way you did.” He replied, “I’m the easy target in this situation. Whoever did it can easily escape without anyone noticing. In the end, I’m just a foreign prince from a vassal empire.” Jia’er chuckled.

“And yet, the empress seems intent on protecting this little prince from a vassal state. The people pointing fingers at you seem to have undermined that fact.” He noted, “She even sent you all the way to me on purpose.” Jinyoung scoffed.

“It’s just probably because she wants to keep relations good with Goryeo for now.” He noted, “It wouldn’t be good for the prince she personally chose to run into trouble already.”And yet, Jia’er’s words reminded Jinyoung of something. Before Jinyoung had been dismissed, Jang Soyoung had made it clear that she was certain the owner of this business, Wang Jia’er would help him without causing trouble. She had been so certain then, yet Jinyoung hadn’t understood why. 

And now, it suddenly made sense.

Wang Jia’er was not simply a former resident of Goryeo. His family had faithfully served the royal family for years, and Jia’er himself had been a frequent visitor of the royal palace throughout his childhood years. In other words, the Wang family had long ago staked their loyalty to the Goryeo royal family. There was no way a child of the Wang family would betray a prince of Goryeo. Jia’er was the best help that Jinyoung could hope for in the sudden crisis he had been thrown into. 

Jinyoung chuckled softly as his thoughts lined up.

Jang Soyoung...no wonder you were so certain. 

What a mysterious woman.

“Jinyoung?” Jia’er’s voice drew the prince’s attention out of his thoughts, and he smiled as he looked up at his longtime friend.

“What are you thinking about?” Jia’er asked. Jinyoung smiled and shook his head. 

“Nothing.” He replied, “So, do you have any ideas about how to investigate Lord Han’s death? I cannot just walk up to the front door and ask to investigate the poisoned box of sweets.” A playful twinkle entered Jia’er’s eyes, a cheeky smile crossing his face.

“Of course not.” He replied, “I am Wang Jia’er. There’s a far better way to investigate than that.”

[mydisenchantedeulogy]

Under the Water |Chapter Four| Bitter or Sweet |John Seed|

Warning(s): John Seed with bangs, canon divergence, tears, realization, talk of sin, religious themes, slipping from grace, first kiss.

No Minors Allowed!!

“Welcome back! It’s been a minute,” John mentioned with a grin. He motioned for her to sit and waited for Cora to do so before leaning back against his worktable.

She avoided his keen eyes and glanced around. Again, she was alone with him, trapped in the same horrid room as before. Lights dim and red; shreds of dried-out skin could be seen all around the table, more than she remembered. Other than the usual, two roller chairs sat adjacent to her; she wasn’t sure why, but she also wasn’t curious either.

“I should apologize,” John stated. He pushed off the table and sauntered over to her. Cora was content with staring at the floor as he moved around her like a predator circling its quarry. “The way I treated you during our last session was … unfair. My brother reminded me that people like you need patience.”

He stopped right behind her and leaned over the chair. His warm breath against her ear brought chills to her body. “I can be patient, but only for so long.”

Patting her on the shoulder, he laughed and rolled a chair up to her right side. John noticed that the wound on her thigh, the one he caused, was covered with a large adhesive bandage.

“Does it still hurt?”

Cora snorted. Was he serious? He cut her a few days ago – three lunches from the time she last saw him. Yeah, it still hurt. She gave him an incredulous look.

“What are you playing at? Good cop, bad cop is a negotiation tactic. I don’t plan on making a deal with you, so whatever aggressive method you have cooked up, do it.”

She honestly just wanted to return to her cell. She and Melanie somehow managed to keep under the radar for the past few days. The fact John targeted her meant that he was bored and out of quarries to terrorize. How many of them had he maimed? She could barely count the shreds of tattooed flesh stapled onto his workbench.

Rumor has it, the Baptist would cut only the skin of a sinner who agreed to his concept of atonement. It was a sign of change; a snake casting its skin. Cora knew that he wouldn’t do this to her until she atoned, but he made it clear that he wasn’t beyond hurting her. She feared the length to which he’d go to make her agree.

His random behavior knocked her for six when he reached out and took her face. Cora tried to draw back, but John kept her nearby. His thumb caressed her soft wet cheek, drying her tears as he looked her over. She was exhausted, that much was obvious. Dark circles were under her sore eyes – a shade of green he liked.

“You’re beautiful. Has anyone ever told you that? I’m not talking about the kind of beautiful men toss around in sleazy comments to sway you into bed with them, but a natural and innocent beauty,” John explained. He turned her head, bearing her neck to him. “It’s a shame you care nothing about that, letting those charming looks go to waste. A little water and a bar of soap and I bet you’d clean up nice. What do you say?”

Cora laughed in disbelief. “I say you’re trying too hard. Where’d you go to law school? You must have been good to have moved from wherever the hell you came from to buy out properties from a hick county such as Hope. I mean, look at you. Prim little boy toy with a silver spoon up his ass. I may be easy, and I admit, you are handsome as the devil, but I am not an idiot.”

“Wow! And I mean that. You are something.” John released her face and stood up. He rolled the spare chair in front of her, then left the room. A few silent minutes later he returned, a woman in tow.

Cora recognized her, nearly tempted to stand up and greet her with a hug. “Gracie. Fuck … they got you too.”

“A few days ago, yes. Mary May and I were so worried when you didn’t show up. I had a feeling that you had been chosen,” she confirmed. Grace sat in the chair assigned for her upon orders from John, ignoring him as he touched her shoulder and left her to speak with Cora.

Said woman puckered a brow in doubt and watched him go over to his worktable, setting various tools aside. Her attention remained on him until she felt Grace take her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“How are you managing? You look terrible.”

Cora snorted. “I feel worse than I look. This place is a prison, Gracie. I’m so sorry that you ended up here. And what of Mary May? Did she get caught too?”

“You know her, stubborn as ever. She refused to join up and locked herself and a few others inside the bar. But that’s not our concern; it’s you I’m worried about,” she answered.

Something had changed about her. She was calm despite the stressful situation she was in. Her appearance was normal too, not a hair out of place. Cora leaned forward – she smelled nice too.

“Are you okay?”

Grace smiled. “I feel great.”

“Of course, you do,” John agreed. He caressed her arm and sat in the chair beside them. In his hand was a tattoo pen; the power supply system connected to an extension cord that led across the floor and plugged into an electric socket on the side of his worktable. He tested the pen and laid it on his lap, turning his keen eyes on Cora.

“It’s a special day for Grace, one she wanted to share with you. That takes courage, naming your sins. Right, Grace?”

Said woman agreed, keeping her eyes on Cora. “I want you to see that it’s okay to be scared. Brother John is going to guide us through our confessions, and later, we can cut out our sins and join our brothers and sisters.”

“They brainwashed you. Fuck, Gracie. This isn’t you,” Cora explained with panic in her voice. How could they? She in return squeezed her clammy hand. “You can’t trust someone who snatched you from your home in the night.”

John took her hand and forced it away. His grasp was anything but gentle; she gritted her teeth in pain.

“Grace came to us. She asked the Father to absolve her sins and he in return gave her to me,” he explained. He toyed with the pen in his lap for a moment, then lifted it. “And so, I plan to make good on that promise.”

Cora shook her head in doubt. “The hell are you talking about? I know better to believe that she’d agree to that.”

“It’s true, Cora. I went to the Father and asked him for forgiveness,” Grace explained with a frown. “This is what I want. Please try and understand.”

She couldn’t believe this. The Gracie she knew was not extremely religious. Sure, she prayed and sometimes attended church when she wasn’t busy at work, but her soul and where it was heading once she died was not something she was too concerned about. So why now? Cora opted not to speak and watched shrewdly as John ushered Grace to face him; she did as he ordered.

“What now? Tell me what to do, please.”

Cora scowled. Her friend was brainwashed; too far gone to argue with. She gave John a heated look, and in return, he smiled.

“Confess,” he directed. “And in doing so I can name your sins and etch them onto your skin.”

Grace nodded. “I … don’t know where to start. I never really thought of myself as someone with a clear sin. Sex isn’t necessarily important to me, and I work so hard for what is mine. I don’t know.”

“Think back,” John instructed. “There is always something that guilts us; drives us to hate ourselves. Come on, you can do it.”

Cora scoffed. “She doesn’t have one. Stop pressuring her.”

“There is something. I just don’t know how to explain it in a way that won’t destroy me,” Grace admitted. Tears gathered in her eyes. “I don’t want to lose you, Cora.”

The said woman shook her head in doubt. “We’re friends, Gracie. Why say that? You’d never hurt me.”

“It’s you; it’s always been you.” She wiped at the tears that fell down her rose-colored cheeks. “That summer at the lake. Jonah Adler and I had plans to go steady, but you … you took him from me. I liked him and you took him away.”

Cora frowned. She remembered Jonah; she just didn’t know Grace liked him. This incident took place several years ago. Grace never told her. Tears blurred her eyes. She didn’t know. How could she not have known?

“I … I am so sorry. I didn’t … you ––”

John laughed. “Hurting those closest to you. Have you no standards?”

“I never felt anger towards you though,” Grace mentioned, retaking Cora’s hand. “I don’t hate you, but I’ve always been jealous. Look at you, beauty and no regret. Who would ever hate you?”

Cora squeezed her soft hand. “Me. I hate me.”

“Hush now. This isn’t about you.” John forced her from Grace again. “The time for your confession will come later. It’s Grace’s turn.”

She nodded in agreement. “And I’m ready.”

The pen whirred to life. Cora watched through blurry eyes as John leaned forward. He asked Grace to relax and pushed aside the v-cut of her shirt, then set the needle against her skin. Grace tensed up in pain, but she didn’t move. The process took no more than a few minutes, and when John was done, Cora saw what he wrote on her skin; envy. Dread quickly filled her. She felt entirely responsible for making Grace feel this way.

“How was it?”

Grace pressed her lips together. “It hurt a little, and it stings a bit.”

“That’s normal,” John explained. He stood up, sat the pen down in the seat, and moved behind Cora. His large hands squeezed her shoulders. “To let go of your sins you must first experience pain. That’s step two, and private might I add. Coralee will need to return to her room, so sit tight.”

He all but eased her out of the roller chair, taking her by the arm as he led her down the stairs and back to her cell. Before he opened the door, John turned Cora to face him. Her eyes were clouded over with doubt and hopelessness.

“Defeat looks good on you,” he stated. His thumb traced her wet rose-colored cheek.

Cora leaned forward and roughly pressed her warm lips against his own. Once he shoved her back – a bit too slow for someone claiming to be free of sin – Cora laughed. His eyes were blown with lust.

“And how does it taste, motherfucker?”

John scowled and forced her back into her room, slamming the door shut behind her. Cora leaned against the wall and laughed; tears poured down her face. She didn’t even realize between the mental breakdown and the silence of the room that Melanie was gone.

[breanime]

Quality (Part Two)

Request by @kind-wolf:  Ask for requests and you shall receive! 😉 I would absolutely love a sequel to "Quality". Like maybe the next time they're overseas and about to go home, Billy’s again nervous because this time he wants to ask the big question 💍 Idk. I just thought about that immediately after I read the story back then. If you're not inspired and can't write it, that's ok too! ILY ❤ Also: Your new ink is great! 😍

Thanks for the request, sweetheart! And thank you--I love my tattoos!

*gif not mine*

“You put in your PTO?” Billy asked you, smiling as he leaned closer to the computer screen.

You smiled back, and Billy wished he was with you, wished he could feel that smile against his own. “Yup,” you answered, “as requested, even though you still haven’t told me what you’re planning.”

“You’ll see,” he said back, “Five more days, and you’ll see.”

He and Frank were coming off of another tour and were currently in France awaiting their flight back to the States. As much as he liked being a soldier—a Lieutenant now—Billy really enjoyed this in-between time. He wanted to go home to you, of course, but he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t hard. He always felt a little off when he came home from active duty, like he needed to practice being a civilian again, and he felt guilty as hell bringing his shit home to you. So, he appreciated the time between active duty and going home, liked that he was able to talk to you and have time to come down from soldier mode before he got to you. Especially now. It was almost insane to him, thinking about two years ago when he wasn’t even sure if you’d be at the airport to now; living with you, telling you he loved you, being loved in return… It was a crazy turn of events—the best kind of crazy.

Which is why he bought a ring in Paris.

“Usually, when you get home,” you said with a smirk, “We don’t leave the apartment for the first few days…”

“Oh, we’re definitely doing that,” Billy assured you, “But I’m gonna take you out, too. Show you off.” Get down on one knee and ask you to be with me for the rest of our lives. “You get that package that I sent you?”

“The one with 300 American dollars stapled to the teddy bear?” You asked back, eyebrow raised. “Yes, I did. I told you about sending me money—”

“Yeah, yeah. But this is a part of my plans,” he said, “I want you to get your hair and nails done, okay baby? And buy something pretty and lacy that I can tear off of you.”

You rolled your eyes, still smiling. “I don’t get why you like to spend money on lingerie when you just ruin it the first time you see it.”

Billy grinned wolfishly. Not a day went by that he didn’t think about your body pressed against his, your mouth on his, the way you sighed and moaned when he was touching you, inside you…the look on your face—devilish and scandalized—when he tore off your lingerie, devouring you with his eyes and hands and mouth. “Ruining it is kind of the point,” he answered.

The two of you talked for a little while longer, alternatively flirting and discussing your plans and making arrangements for his arrival, before Billy had to go. Your “I love you” rang in his ears long after you’d hung up, and while he knew your words were true, he also hoped you loved him at least half as much as he loved you. He hoped you’d say yes.

“What if she doesn’t say yes?” He asked hours later. He, Frank, and Curtis were in the hotel bar, having a few well-earned drinks before they had to head to the airport and hop another plane. Neither of them was drunk—the hooch in Afghanistan was way stronger than anything he’d get in France or the U.S—but it was nice to sit and drink like regular guys.

“She’s gonna say yes,” Frank said, not missing a beat. He and Billy had this conversation at least once a week since the thought of proposing popped in Billy’s head…over a year ago.

“Y/N is absolutely crazy about you, Russo,” Curtis added, “She’s definitely going to say yes.”

“Yeah, but…” Billy rotated his neck, a nervous habit he’d had since childhood. “But what if she doesn’t?”

“In what world would that happen, Bill?” Frank asked, leaning back in his seat.

“It’s possible…”

“Show us the ring again,” Curtis prompted.

Billy took the black, velvet box out of his pocket and popped it open. The diamonds glittered in the light, shining almost as brightly as your smile. That was why he chose it; it glittered like your smile, it gleamed like your pretty eyes, it was almost as beautiful as you. Almost.

“Oh yeah,” Curtis said confidently, “She’s gonna say yes.”

“Hell, give me a rock like that, and I’ll say yes.” Frank added, eyes wide even though he’d probably seen the damn thing nearly every day in the last few weeks as Billy’s nerves grew worse.

Billy laughed back, tucking the ring back into his pocket where it was safe and secure. “That’s why you’re my back-up, Frankie. If things don’t work out with Y/N, I’ll just marry you and make Curt my side chick.”

“I’ll be expecting a ring, too,” Curtis said, “And a candy thong.”

“Well now I want to have Curtis for my side chick, too,” Frank mused.

Billy laughed again, letting his friends distract him with their nonsense. In five days, he’d be back with you, and he would take you out and romance you, get down on one knee, and ask the only woman he ever loved to spend the rest of her life with him…

…or he’d just keep the ring in his pocket until you were both old and grey. He still wasn’t sure.

As the days approached, and Billy got closer and closer to New York, he wrestled with the idea of proposing. Originally, when he’d come to the conclusion that he wanted to marry you, he’d pictured himself taking you out to a nice dinner and giving you a big speech before he asked. Then he thought about doing it at home, in case you said no, so he could nurse his wounded pride in private, but that thought depressed him, so he tried not to dwell on that. He thought about doing it at Frank’s place; Maria always had a nice barbeque with family and close friends a few weeks after they got home, but the thought of you rejecting him there, in front of the only people he cared about, was way too terrifying for Billy. The thought of you rejecting him was too terrifying. But Billy was a pessimist at heart, and he couldn’t think about proposing without thinking about the worst-case scenario. It was almost enough to keep him from proposing at all, except… the best-case scenario—you saying yes, becoming his wife, becoming Mrs. Russo and maybe one day even bearing his children—God, that simple possibility was so damn appealing, he had to chance it.

He needed you.

He sat next to the window on the plane back to New York, staring out at the clouds and thinking of you. Frank was next to him, knocked out with his head on Billy’s shoulder, and Curtis was in the aisle across from them, reading a book and listening to music. Billy had his headphones in, too, but he wasn’t listening to music. He was listening to voicemails.

“So,” your voice was clear, “Remember how I was bragging about you to Gavin because his boyfriend’s a model and he’s always insufferable about it? I showed him a picture of you—and I probably shouldn’t have, but he needed to know! Like, his boyfriend looks like an uncooked noodle with a whole tomato for lips, or like, like that monster from Monsters Inc—have you seen that movie? Did they let you watch movies during your sad childhood?” Billy chuckled to himself as he listened. You had found a way to hook his cell to his email and had gotten into the habit of leaving him rambling voicemails on days you weren’t able to talk. He saved them all on his phone, his email, and a separate USB, and listened to them religiously. “Anyway,” you went on, “Remember the week before you deployed? And we went to the wine and canvas and you kept being unnecessarily sexy and whispering all those dirty things to me while I was painting? Of course you do, you pervert. Remember how I got all obsessed with painting and we bought a bunch of supplies and took them home because I, after one session at a wine and canvas where we painted a sunset and I turned it into a horror movie scene, was a natural expert? And we brought all those canvases and paint and wine and tried to paint each other? Well, I showed him the picture of you after we got into that red paint-blue paint fight, you know the one where you were shirtless, and had my hand prints all over your chest and your hair was all messy and you were smirking at me and you looked so hot? Yeah, I showed Gavin that one.” The smile was evident in your voice. “Man, that was a good night. I don’t think my legs stopped shaking for hours after… Anyway—Gavin agrees that you’re way hotter than his boyfriend, and has asked if he can borrow you for a night. I declined on your behalf. Mama don’t share.”

The next one played immediately after. Billy loved this one, your voice was soft and sleepy, and he always imagined you in bed, wearing one of his shirts hanging off of your shoulder, no pants. He loved you like that, soft and sweet, a picture that was for him only. He closed his eyes as he listened, imagining you in real time talking right into his ear. “I miss you, baby. I went to that café you like, the one with all the paintings of professional, artsy cats wearing people clothes, and it made me miss you more than usual. I love you. I know you’re doing good work, and I’m proud of you, but I miss you. Do you remember when we went to Miami and ended up doing it in an alley behind the club?” You laughed, a musical sound that Billy wanted to hear for the rest of his life. “My knees were so scrapped up after that.” You sighed. “I miss you so much, baby. I dreamt of you this morning. I love you, and I hope you’re safe. Talk to you later.”

The next message was short, but it was exactly what Billy needed to hear. “My mom called asking about you again,” your voice sounded irritated, “She went on and on about how it wasn’t fair for me to wait on someone who was thousand of miles away, and how you were ‘a nice enough man’, but you’re gonna hurt me and blah blah blah… I tried to ignore it, and I even tried to tell her about your idea for the security business, and how you, Frank, and Curtis were going to partner up and stuff, but she just… Ugh,” you sighed, “She was just committed to being negative, and…” Another sigh. “She just doesn’t get it. I mean, she married my dad when she was 17 because she got pregnant, and when he left, he took all her notions of love with him, and… I mean, I get it. I felt that way too, you know? Like love was a lie, a waste, a weakness, but… Then I met you. And the way you make me feel, Billy… I know love is real. I know you love me, and I love you. And yeah, this… This is hard, loving you and being away from you, not being able to talk to you for days at a time, worrying about you… It’s so incredibly hard, Billy…” There was a pause. “But you know what? It’s worth it. You’re worth it. And if I had to do this for the rest of my life, waiting for you to come home, talking to your voicemail until you got a chance to write me a letter or send me an email or whatever… I would do it. Because I’d do anything to be with you. Anything. And I’m sure Mom’s gonna bitch for a while longer, but she’ll see. You mean everything to me, Billy…” There was a brief pause, and the sound of cloth shuffling. “That’s Mom on the other line. Talk to you later, baby.”

Billy opened his eyes as the next message (you updating him on your latest TV obsession Love After Lockup), and stared at the clouds. You loved him so much. You were willing to go against your mother just to wait around for him. After that day, when he’d called you back, you cried on the phone with him, and he’d tried his best to soothe you, wishing he could hold you in his arms and kiss your tears away. After he’d gotten off of the phone with you, Billy had called your mom, and a few weeks after that, he called her again and asked her for her blessing to propose. She’d given him her blessing and promised not to ruin the surprise, and Billy had sent her a picture of the ring when he bought it. She called him crying, overjoyed, and called him “son-in-law”. Thinking back on that, and your voicemail saying how much you loved him, Billy knew what he had to do. He closed his eyes and slept for the rest of the flight.

Billy, as always, walked a few feet behind Frank and Curtis as they walked off the plane and into the lobby. And, as always, Maria and the kids tackled him in hugs; crying and laughing. Curt’s brothers were there, and they greeted him with hugs and laughs as well. There was a small crowd watching from the sidelines, cheering as the vets reunited with their families. Billy frowned; he hated having an audience like that, it made him feel like an animal in a zoo.

“Billy!”

The sound of your voice muted everything around him; the laughing and crying and cheering all melted away. The people melted away, the crowd and his brothers alike. All there was, all that mattered, was you. You launched yourself into his arms, and Billy held onto you tight, taking in your sweet scent, the concrete feel of you against him, the sound of your laughter and heavy breathing as you said his name over and over. No matter how many times he did this, he would never get tired of this moment, the reunion. He pulled back and kissed you, an act that he knew he’d be able to do for the rest of his life. Your eyes were still closed, and he reached out and ran his thumb over your bottom lip. You opened your eyes, and he wanted to drown in them, wanted to wake up and go to sleep to those eyes staring at him until the day he died. He never wanted anything more in his life—and Billy had spent almost his entire existence wanting and coveting and desiring, so that was saying a lot. Now he knew, all that time wishing and wanting, he’d been wishing for you. And now you were here: his dream come true. He stepped back from you, eyes focused on you and you only…

…and dropped down to one knee.

Your mouth fell open, and he could see tears shimmering in your gorgeous eyes. His vision spread, he could see Frank, kneeling on the ground, arms around his kids, grinning widely as Maria stood behind him, practically jumping up and down. Curtis had his phone out, getting it all on video. The crowd was still on the edge of his peripheral, but you were the center of his attention. Billy reached out and took your hand in his; your hands were soft, recently manicured like he’d asked, and his brain supplied an image of your hand with his ring on it. He had to make that happen.

“Y/N,” he said, taking a steadying breath as he took out the ring, opening it and feeling his heart race as your eyes widened at the ring, “will you marry me?”

“Yes,” you breathed out.

That was all he needed to hear. Billy jumped up and crushed you to his chest, kissing the side of your neck. His heart was pounding. He heard shouts and cheers and clapping, and normally, he’d be embarrassed and probably irritated at the attention, but right now all he could feel was relief. You said yes. You were going to marry him. You were going to be his wife.

You pulled back and kissed him, long and hard and slow, and Billy wanted to rip your clothes off and take you then and there. In fact, he wanted you wearing nothing but his ring for at least the next 72 hours. That in mind, Billy, grinning from ear to ear, slid the ring on your waiting finger, kissing your face as he did so.

“I was so nervous,” he whispered against your lips, still smiling.

You were engulfed in a huge group hug before you could respond, Maria, Curtis, Frank and the kids wrapping you in their arms and giving congratulations and “I knew it”s all around. As you all walked out of the airport, hand in Billy’s, ring proudly displayed on your pretty finger, he felt, for the first time in his life, like he was a complete man.

He bent his head so that his mouth was by your ear. “You’re really gonna need your time off now,” he whispered.

You grinned up at him. “Don’t I always?” You put your hand up, admiring the ring. “I can’t believe I’m going to be Mrs. Billy Russo.”

Billy glanced over at Frank, who shot him a proud smile. He turned back to you, his fiancé, his future wife, and saw his entire future standing next to him. “Well, you know,” he shrugged, smiling, “quality over quantity, baby.”

*******************************************************************************************

Please let me know what you think! Thanks for reading! 

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[cptn-stvngrntrgrs]

[fic] Let me go, it's okay. (no, it really is okay)

Relationship: Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanoff

Title: Let me go, it's okay. (no, it really is okay)

Summary:

Natasha came to the conclusion that maybe jumping off the cliff in Vormir wasn't such a bad thing after all.

Sequel to "I guess we got the better end of the bargain" but can also be read alone.

-- this was impulsively written bc of an anon curiouscat ask that i received: "what scenario can you make when James Rogers discovers his mother's sacrifice and how his father brought her back?"

hello!! thank you so much to everyone who read and enjoyed "I guess we got the better end of the bargain"!!! this is for those who asked for a sequel or more post-Endgame James Rogers!!

tw// mention of ptsd/panic attack.

Also on AO3!!!

“Come on James, let’s go!!!” Morgan Stark excitedly squealed as she ran out of the house and into the beach. Well, more like a private island. That Morgan technically owns. The moment Morgan was born, Tony has been buying properties here and there for her. Pepper simply can’t stop him - the little girl has her dad wrapped by her pinky before she was even born.

“I’m not spoiling her, Pep. I’m… securing her future.” Tony argued one time after Pepper found out Tony bought her a beach house. Again.

“Wait for me ‘Gan!” James called out, jumping off the last three steps of the stairs, which almost made Steve wince had he not landed gracefully on his feet. Well, he is his parents’ child and Steve is definitely feeling what Bucky felt when they were younger. His son got all his recklessness with his mother’s elegance, making him their own little daredevil.

“Don’t forget to put on sunblock!” Pepper reminded the kids, standing by the door and watching them run into the water.

“Already got it on, Aunt Peps!” James responded, a bright smile on his face as he turned around to give his aunt a thumbs up before running after Morgan once again. James adored his aunt.

Pepper has been there for Natasha ever since she found out she’s pregnant and has barely left her side since. Natasha’s pregnancy was surprisingly a very calm one, despite worries from her doctors as to what brought the possibility of pregnancy. Their theory of Vormir somehow “healing” her is their best bet for it — with Gamora saying that there’s a possibility, in theory, that a soul that was sacrificed there, if brought back, would be whole again. Since Natasha was the first one who, in a way, was brought back because of time travel, they didn’t really have anyone to compare it to.

The news of Natasha’s pregnancy spread like wildfire to the rest of the Avengers throughout, quite literally, the whole universe. Of course, the moment he caught wind of the news, Clint, Laura, and the kids were in the Compound right away. Laura and Natasha shared a tearful hug — Natasha once confided in Laura about her remorse at not being able to bear children. She couldn’t believe that she’s finally going to get the family she never thought she’d have.

When James was born, it seemed as though an imminent threat was upon Earth once again judging by the number of Avengers and superheroes present. Good thing Natasha and Steve decided to stay at the Compound for the delivery instead of a hospital like Pepper suggested, or else they would’ve sent the general public population into a panic as to why a massive crowd of superheroes is gathered once again.

Out of everyone in the room, the newborn James spent most of his time in the arms of his namesake, Bucky, who cried with Steve and Natasha when James was put in his arms for the first time. Aside from the adults, Morgan, who was 6 at that time, also racked up on snuggling hours with James. She just adored him from the start. She always hovered around, asking about the baby and just playing with him. At one point, she even asked for a baby sibling, which Tony supported until a sharp “No” from Pepper to her husband struck the idea down.

Now, almost 7 years later, Steve watched as James and Morgan ran around in the water, chasing Lila, Cooper, and Nathaniel. Sam was supervising them, holding his daughter’s - Natalie - hand as she tried to play with the kids who are a bit bigger than her. At 5 years old, she’s the youngest of the bunch. Maria Hill and Sam got married a couple of months after James was born, which is what Maria preferred because she wanted Natasha to be there and have fun with them. A little over a year after that, Natalie Wilson was born - named after Natasha. There were a lot of tears from both women that day.

“Dad! Dad!” James high-pitched squeals broke Steve out of his reverie to see his son running to him. He straightened up and kneeled down once James was in front of him.

“What is it? Are you okay?” This became his staple response with James as of lately; he’s becoming more and more accident prone with his recklessness and Steve’s sure it’s making him age twice as fast.

James just giggled at his father’s prodding. “Of course I am, dad. Can I go with Morgan and Coop and Uncle Sam? They’re going cliff-diving! Please please please, dad!” And with that came the puppy eyes.

Steve sighed. Truth be told, he’s too young for those kinds of activities at just 7 years old. But… he also has a mutated version of the serum running through him so he suppose…

“Whatcha boys doings here?” Natasha’s voice cut through Steve’s internal struggles and despite not even seeing her behind him yet, he could already feel the smile spreading across his face. Natasha does have that kind of effect on him.

Steve turned around and stood up to give Natasha a kiss as a greeting. “He wants to go cliff-diving with the kids.” He whispered. As his words sunk in, he noticed Natasha stiffen so he hugged her to his side, his arm firmly latched around her waist. Natasha hasn’t been dealing well with heights since Vormir and honestly, neither does Steve. They’ve mainly used helicarriers or private planes to fly and places like mountains or high elevation were mostly avoided.

“Mommy, please,” James tugged on the hem of Natasha’s sundress, peeking at her with his wide blue eyes, his strawberry-blond hair flopping from the wind.

Natasha offered her son a soft smile before turning to Steve, worry etching her forehead. “Is it safe?” She asked, her voice low.

Steve paused for a moment. “Yes. I know Sam and the others has been there. It’s only 12 feet at most, the water is clear of rocks or anything, and Sam will be watching the kids to catch them. Which means Bucky will be there too.” Natasha didn’t look convinced, her lips still pursed together tightly. “I can wait with them in the water to catch James, if you want.” She seemed to think that over and eventually nodded.

Mustering the courage to smile, Natasha faced James. “Okay, honey, you go with them. But daddy will be going with you, okay? He’s going to be in the water with Uncle Sam and Bucky.”

“What about you, mommy? Can you go with us too?” He asked, eyes glinting with hope.

“Mommy’s not really in the mood to swim today, bud.” Steve supplied for Natasha, seeing her torn look.

“Then mommy can watch me when I jump!” He suggested happily. Steve didn’t miss how Natasha winced at his words. “Please, mommy? Even just once?”

Cursing under her breath, Natasha inhaled deeply and forced a smile, scooping James into her arms. He’s getting taller and taller so she’s savoring every moment that she can still carry him. “Fine. But just once, okay?” James grinned widely and nodded. Steve squeezed Natasha’s shoulder as he signaled for Sam to lead the way.

The “cliff” isn’t really a cliff as much as it is an elevated part on the island. It was only a short eight minute walk from the beach, and there were steps leading up to it to prevent slipping on the ground. James squirmed from Natasha’s arms once they reached the steps and she set him down, letting him run towards the others. Natasha and Steve stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at the top of the “cliff”.

Natasha’s hand shot out to hold Steve’s, gripping it tightly as she took a deep breath while making her way up the stairs. They took slow and calculated steps, as if they were sneaking up behind an enemy. Halfway through, she could see edge, with the children excitedly looking down at the water and chattering amongst each other. Steve gave her hand a squeeze and didn’t move until she does first. They were on the last step of the stairs and the edge and water were completely visible when Natasha tensed up.

“I can’t do this,” she said, voice tight, as she started gasping for air. Steve stood in front of her, grabbing a hold of her; his hand still gripping hers tightly and the other cupping her cheek. “Please get me out of here,” she choked out, her free hand holding onto his shirt. Steve nodded rapidly and was slowly moving to carefully step down from the stairs when they heard their son.

“Mommy! Daddy!” James called out when he saw his parents, not knowing what’s happening. Sam glanced in their way and cursed, running to their direction. He knew the signs of a panic attack and this definitely was one.

“Steve, take her back right away! We’ll follow you guys!” Sam said, assessing Natasha’s look and breathing. This isn’t good; if she doesn’t get to leave on time then —

Before Sam’s worst-case scenario thought finished, it already happened in front of his eyes. Natasha fainted and was caught by Steve’s arms and chest, her head colliding with his shoulder.

—

“Daddy, is mommy going to be okay?” James tearfully asked Steve. They were both in the guest room’s couch across from the bed, where Natasha is still passed out on.

Steve looked at James and smiled sadly, wiping his son’s tears with his thumbs. “Of course she will be, baby. Mommy’s just… not feeling well.”

“Why did she suddenly get sick when we were at the cliff?” He asked, tilting his head. His brows are scrunched up tightly, a sign that he’s deeply contemplating what happened to his mom. The look almost made Steve chuckle, he couldn’t count how many times Natasha has told him he and James always make the same thoughtful look. Whenever Natasha notices Steve have that look, she always runs her thumb over between his brows to loosen them, and it always helps him calm down. So he did the same with James until he giggled.

Natasha stirred on the bed, rolling over her side, facing them. Steve and James froze, watching whether or not she’s fully awake. When she cracked an eye open, James ran to the bed and into Natasha’s arms before Steve could even stop him.

“Mommy, you’re awake!” James yelled with glee. Steve sat on the couch for a little bit until Natasha’s eyes caught his and he sat next to them on the bed.

“How are you?” Steve asked, stretching his legs in front of him and resting on the headboard. He looked down at her and smoothed the stray locks of her hair. Natasha smiled and pushed to a sitting position, propped by a pillow, next to Steve. She tucked herself under him and James sat between them, Natasha’s arm around him.

“I’m doing fine. Feeling a lot better,” Natasha said with a bitter laugh.

“Mommy what happened to you? I thought you were going to watch me jump! Then I saw you sleeping in daddy’s arms and he and Uncle Sam and Uncle Bucky looked really worried,” James jutted his lower lip out, recalling the events that happened earlier that day.

Natasha looked at Steve with an eyebrow raised. So far, all James knows about his parents and his aunts and uncles is that they’re superheroes and they’re called The Avengers. He’s seen their pictures and videos on TV and even plays with their action figures - leave it to Tony to give the children toys of their parents . What they haven’t told him yet, though, is what happened a decade and a half ago that changed the world - and how his parents played a huge role in it.

They really hoped to spare James the whole Thanos story until he’s a bit older - like how Tony told Morgan when she was 10 years old and started asking tons of questions as to why her dad is hailed a hero. At that age, she was mature enough to understand the dynamics of what happened, and hopefully, not get nightmares from it.

Well, it’s tricky in Steve and Natasha’s case. How do you explain to your child that his mom died and his dad went back in time to bring her back? Hell, even a grown adult might not even understand that story, let alone an seven year old.

Natasha cleared her throat. “Well, baby, Mommy had an accident way before you were born,” she started, watching her son’s reaction. When he seemed to understand that, she continued. “Mommy fell off a cliff.” Natasha flinched and Steve started smoothing his thumb over her arm to try to calm her down.

James gasped. “Oh no, mommy! What happened after that? Did it hurt?” came his rapid-fire questions in a worried voice, looking at Natasha with wide eyes.

Natasha paused and narrowed her eyes to think. “No, I don’t think it hurt. And you know why?” James shook his head. “Because daddy saved me.”

Now, James turned to his father with a look of amazement on his face. “Really, dad? You saved mommy?”

Steve glanced at Natasha, his hand traveling to hers and giving it a squeeze as he nodded. “I sure did! I love your mommy very much and I didn’t want her to be hurt so I rescued her.”

James was quiet for a moment, his mouth hanging open as he got a dreamy, far-away look in his eyes. “Wow…” he mumbled. Turning back to Natasha, he asked, “But mommy, why did you get sick earlier?”

Steve and Natasha contemplated the question, thinking of ways to explain panic attacks to young children. “Remember how mommy said she had an accident at a cliff?” Steve asked, to which James nodded. “Well, when mommy saw the cliff earlier, she remembered her accident. Then that made her really sick.” Steve explained, with Natasha humming and stroking James’s hair.

“Really, mommy?” James looked at Natasha, who mumbled a ‘yes’, making him burrow his head into her side. Natasha and Steve looked at each other, alarmed.

“James, baby, what’s wrong?” Natasha asked, her voice soft, after hearing sniffs from him.

James poked his head up a bit, his eyes red with tears. “I’m sorry, mommy!!” he wailed, throwing his arms around her and hiding his face on her side again.

Natasha frowned while Steve rubbed a hand on James’s back. “Baby, why are you sorry?” she tried to poke him so he could talk to them.

James looked up again, looking between Steve and Natasha. “Because I told you to come to the cliff with me,” he sniffed again but didn’t hide this time. His voice sounded so melancholy that it broke Natasha’s and Steve’s hearts.

“Oh, baby, that’s not your fault!” Natasha assured him, propping him up so she could properly hug him, his arms automatically going around her neck. She looked at Steve and raised her eyebrows, telling him to say something.

To be perfectly honest, he might be able to counsel adults after the snap, but once James start crying, Steve’s emotions gets the better of him. The image in front of him - Natasha holding a crying James - painfully reminded him of his childhood with his mother consoling him when he’s sick or beaten by his father. Really, his child is his biggest weakness.

“James, do you want to know a secret?” Steve asked, inching towards James, his voice low. James peered at him, nodding. “Mommy’s accident may have been a bad thing, but there were so many good things that came out of it.” James pulled away from Natasha, trying to think of what his dad was saying. How can good things come from painful accidents? Wasn’t his mommy hurt? Even Natasha looked taken aback with Steve’s statement.

When neither James or Natasha said anything, Steve continued. “Your mommy saved the world! And then after that, you became our baby! Aren’t those good things?” Steve smiled, seeing James’s eyes brighten at that.

“Mommy, you saved the world too? Like Uncle Tony?” James asked, a bit shocked. He knew his parents were heroes but he didn’t know his mom saved the world !

Natasha laughed, nodding along. All these years, the thought of what happened in Vormir still haunts her. She suppose she focused too much on the fact that she died on that cliff, and that yeah, sure, her sacrifice got them the soul stone. Well, she knows she died, but she doesn’t even remember dying. She just remembered falling, then the next thing she knows, she’s taking deep breaths while Steve almost actually crushed her with a hug.

But she had yet to really embrace the fact that honestly, in the end, throwing herself down that cliff isn’t at all that bad. Sure, according to the stories from everyone, she missed one hell of a battle. That fact aside, she still came out all of this as a winner. First of all, she did help save the universe, a big help, in fact. Most importantly, the soul stone gave her back what she lost. And now, as she watched Steve play with James, she realized that jumping off that cliff was worth it.

[gaspbrat]

Senior Year Hues

not blues

au where IT is just a normal travelling clown.

Georgie is alive and well.

As is the prom haze.

warnings: angery jealous eds, swearing

ENJOy, I don’t know why I never posted this. Undoubtedly was part of an entire series.

wc: 3500+

Gretchen Tozier was a beloved and respected 1968 partially black Barracuda “carefully” handed down through the family. Gifted to Richie’s uncle in ‘71, pawned off on Richie’s dad following his uncle’s first DUI and the damage that came with it in January of '72.

Two matte grey mismatched panels on the driver side door and the front bumper were added, hoped to be finished by '73 so Richie’s older sister could joyride through her senior year, seven years later. Thanksgiving that same year, though, dear Uncle Andy rolled through Derry again. He borrowed the car for about twenty-six minutes before overturning it on an embankment near Neibolt. Gretchen was towed, fixed and released back to his father a few months later. His uncle spent the night in the drunk tank, receiving his second and final DUI. Andy hasn’t returned to Derry or their lives since.

To his sister’s distaste, she would not be able to take it a few hundred miles down the coast to college with her like she had hoped. His parents told her she needed to buy her own, especially with her living on campus. She does, a beat up ‘88 Mitsubishi with peeling forest green paint and a bumper that didn’t match.

Richie, upon turning 15, bought her off of his dad for fifty dollars and a pay stub in '91. She has been appreciated properly for the next three wonderful years. Only the finest of company near Ol’ Gretchie.

Eddie definitely hated the ridiculous, loud, obnoxious piece of junk. He definitely didn’t end up falling for that piece of junk just like he did with its driver. Out of the question.

He didn’t get excited when he heard the rhythmic drumming of the old engine approaching his street from a block away.

He most certainly did not love the homey fabric of the seats with endless rips in them or the faint lingering smell of the little trees Richie puts up to mask the ghost of cigarettes past. (Eddie is almost certain they aren’t Richie’s, but if they were he knew Richie would never admit it.)

Eddie did not love that car. Whatsoever. But he did find a place in his heart for all the memories made with it. With him.

So when Richie told him he had to take it to the dump, Eddie nearly lost it.

“What do you mean you’re trashing it, I thought you loved that thing?!”

“Eds, why are you getting so upset, I thought you hated it?”

“I do (not), but… it’s sad seeing you just get rid of it like that.”

“You’re gonna miss ol’ Gretchie aren’t you, spaghetti?”

Richie knew his car didn’t actually need to be trashed entirely it just needed a few major repairs that he knew he would never be able to afford. At least not soon; not for another three months until he could save enough. And if Eddie found out he’d dump his savings into that thing no question. His little hypochondriac was far too good to  him. Even if he wasn’t his yet.

Eddie always was ready to help Richie any way he could, he knew that wholeheartedly, but his stupid damn pride would not allow it.

Richie took up working overtime on the weekends just so he could get back to driving his little Eddie bear around Derry as soon as possible.

Gretchen was a staple in the Tozier’s Promposals. She accompanied his parents to their prom. He was not about to break this tradition just because of his bank account. Eddie deserved the best carriage for his first prom. He was going to have to swallow his pride and buckle in for the most agonizing waiting game of his life, so far.

“Hey, Richie,” Eddie called over to his friend, remembering an invitation he was to extend, snapping Richie from his brooding, “Bill’s having a sleepover tonight, did you want to go? He said you can pick the movie.”

Eddie’s smile was so genuine and hopeful the he almost said yes just so he could keep that smile right where it belonged always but he remembered he had to close tonight and work the mid shift tomorrow. And Bill never let him pick the movies, ever.

“Wish I could but I work tonight. Sorry, buddy.” he patted Eddie’s shoulder and gave him a weak smile.

“You’ll get along without me though, won’t you, Eds?”

“I guess… yea.”

Richie immediately wanted to take it back just to see that smile. Just to see those damn dimples.

He seemed to have gotten his wish when he noticed those big brown eyes light up.

“What about tomorrow? We could go see that movie you wanted to see?”

Again, almost horrendously, Eddie looked so hopeful to be spending time with him that Richie’s frozen heart thawed, just slightly.

“My old man wants me to help him get my sister’s junk out of the house and down to her dorm this weekend, shit, I’m really sorry Eds.”

Richie really really hoped Eddie would leave at that but of course not. He really wanted trashmouth to suffer even if he didn’t know he was suffering.

“..I could help?”

Eddie knew he just grasping at straws here but he really missed being annoyed by this dumb stupid asshole every day even though he would never tell him that.

“Eds, I’d love for you to,” the smaller boy’s eyes twinkled, “but there probably wouldn’t be enough room?”

He knew he didn’t sound convincing. Not at all. He just didn’t want to think about it anymore. He wanted to just get work done so he could get paid and then never ever ever have to see this look on Eddie’s face again.

“Oh. Yea, you-you’re probably right, um, sorry I asked. Maybe next week, I guess.” Eddie decided it was best to just give him his space at that point, turning away from him, trying to end the conversation.

“Eds, wait-”

“Stop fucking calling me Eds.”

Richie didn’t see Eddie for the rest of the weekend after he dropped him off at Bill’s that night. Partially from working almost the entire weekend, partially because Eddie had avoided him as much as he could.

Somehow Eddie managed to steer clear of anything remotely related to Richie that next Tuesday.

The taller boy caught a couple glimpses of him the previous school day but he would disappear before anything could be said between them.

Richie sauntered over to the rest of the losers at lunch to find Eddie absent like the day before.

“Hey, where’s Spaghedward?”

“We thought you would know, didn’t you guys just have chem?” Ben answered from beside Stan.

“Yea but he darted off somewhere in a hurry. I thought he’d be here.” Richie turned around hoping to spot Eddie coming from the bathroom or something.

“He seemed kind of upset when I talked to him earlier, what’s going on?” Beverly interjected after swallowing her first spoon of peach yogurt.

Stan ate in silence while the others discussed what could be wrong. He eyed Richie with what others would call just blatant disgust but hid it behind his thermos of chicken noodle soup.

“Yo, Stan, what do you think?” Richie finally asked him directly. He knew something.

“I think you should talk to him.” Ben responded before realizing he wasn’t the one with the answer Richie wanted.

“I second that. Talk to him.” Mike said around his turkey and cheddar sandwich.

Beverly and Bill simply nodded as they picked through their lunches.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” Stan very quietly said, focusing pointedly on his sandwich.

“Why not?” Richie started to get impatient. Stan knew something he didn’t and it was clearly upsetting enough that Stan couldn’t hide his distaste. More than usual.

“He clearly just wants some space, I think you should respect that, okay?”

Stan started to raise his voice slightly and that immediately made Richie eight times more concerned knowing that Stan, of all people, was trying to keep Eddie away from him. Stan quickly picked up his tray and dumped it into the trash before heading down one of the halls.

Richie gave Beverly a kick under the table.

She initially was annoyed but softened when she saw the beat up Docs that had kicked her, nodding without a word. She kicked back twice, the second kick stronger than the first.

“Ow,”

“What, Richie?” Bill raised his head.

“Nothing just kicking myself.”

Lunch proceeded in near silence. Richie was silent for once while the others gossiped about their classes. He was debating the decision to ditch his last period to be early for work. Craig would appreciate him showing up and relieving him early, anyway.

The others returned to their classes and the day sailed by. After school most of them, save for Richie and Mike, met up by the racks to see each other off. Beverly and Ben made a plan to head to the library to cram for their English final tomorrow morning. Bill was planning on tagging along but decided to spend some time with Georgie instead.

Stan knew he didn’t want Ben to third wheel, even though it was evident Bill would be the outlier.

“Bye guys, see you Monday!” Eddie called to the other three losers as he and Stan got on their bikes to head home.

“Oh, hey can we stop by the store really quick? I need to pick up some more of the Nutty Buddies for my mom.”

“Sure.” Eddie didn’t think twice about the grocery run given Mrs. Uris had an acute craving for peanut butter after four.

He was unaware, however, that Stan had set a plan in motion.

Just so happens that the general store was directly across the street from the arcade. Eddie immediately got excited and thought to tell Stan they should go say hi to Richie. Then he remembered Richie telling him he had to help his sister today and brushed it off.

The two went inside to pick up the Nutty Buddies. Stan bought a kit-kat and a bag of chips for him to eat after dinner later.

“I don’t know how you can eat all that junk Stan, how do you sleep at night with your teeth just-,” Eddie stopped nagging momentarily as something outside of the store caught his attention. A dark green, vaguely familiar, car pulled up outside the arcade.

He saw Richie pop out and walk into the arcade with a can of Shasta cola in his hand and a snickers hanging from his mouth, leaving who Eddie assumed was his sister to drive off.

Weird. Thought she would still be in New York right about now.

“Eddie whats going on? You stopped yelling at me.”

“Shut up Stan, look!”

Eddie pointed out the window towards a car he noticed was parked every other season in the driveway.

“Wait, I thought you said he was helping his sister.” Stan inquires further, knowing far better.

“He said he was.” Eddie was immediately disappointed for a reason he wasn’t sure of yet.

Their investigation was put on hold while the clerk rang up their items. She tried starting small talk but Stan just replied curtly with, “Not interested, thank you” while waving a twenty in her general direction.

Eddie supplied a ‘thanks’ to Stan for buying the goods without once looking away from the arcade, observing a cloud of teenage girls huddled in a corner. Their ring leader was approaching the glass and Eddie started to feel dread at the pit of his stomach. He nudged Stan and then started bagging erratically.

They gathered the items and bolted out the door, trying to make sure they could see Richie through the glass without him seeing them.

“Wait, who’s that girl?” Eddie said after a long period of silence.

“Looks like Melissa Cromwell. She’s pretty hot du-.” Stan passed on the general rumor he heard relentlessly from around town. They made him sick but she was definitely well recognized by most boys.

“Shut up, Stan, who asked you?” Eddie whipped out, hoping his words stung like the sting he felt in his chest at this moment.

“You.. did-”

“What the fuck is she doing?”

“Is that a trick question?”

He scoffed but let Eddie’s rambling continue, however, because he had a feeling that Eddie cared a lot more than it already seemed he did. He hasn’t said anything to Stan like ‘Hey I’m bangin’ Richie now, deal with it’ but they’ve been spending a lot of time in each other’s company as of late.

He also knew exactly what a little jealous sap Kaspbrak was like so he didn’t intervene; didn’t mean he couldn’t feed the flame just a bit. Richie was being dismissive and kind of a dick lately, not that that’s anything new. Stan just didn’t want to see his friend tossed over a cliff over this dirt bag.

“Oh my God he’s making her laugh? Look- look at that!”

“I mean, yea? They have Lit together.” Stan announced with his all-knowing bird brain. He saw all and only repeated what he wanted to.

“Why do you care about what Richie fuckin’ Tozier does with his wa-”

Eddie turned to Stan and gave him the look.

Stan shut his mouth tight.

“He lied to me Stanley and know he’s chatting up that hot chick.”

He would never say it to Eddie’s face, (Richie’s face is another story) but Stanley didn’t truly understand what Eddie saw in that asshole. Richie was a dick about three-hundred percent of the time. A dick to Eddie three-hundred percent of the time. He was also for some reason intensely obsessed with his mom.

Stan decided it was best to just let that ship sink on its own eventually when the captain abandoned it. However, if he saw a time bomb ticking down the hull of that ship, he would hop on that lifeboat without a single word and paddle away, letting the pieces fall behind him.

But he couldn’t do that to Eddie.

Right?

The pair noticed the girls all call his name as they exited through the glass doors, cackling with their mob mentality. Stan found them repulsive but knew most guys saw the other qualities.

“Eh, Richie makes a lot of girls laugh sometimes. I guess they think he’s funny?” Stan attempted to level out some of the doubt surrounding his friend.

Much to Eddie’s dismay, Richie started to head back outside of the arcade.

He let out a panicked ‘oh fuck’ before darting off into the alley and biking through it, he didn’t care where he went he just wanted to get far from there.

Stan was struggling with the bag and his kickstand and failed to notice the quick departure of his friend.

He started off a moment later but hesitated when he saw Richie following Melissa further down the street holding a pair of sunglasses and a sharpie in his hands.

Bright neon lights blinked in the arcade window with a welcoming glow. It felt like home to Richie. Except he worked there and wasn’t allowed to play (unless it was empty because it was so slooow after eight).

He got out of his sister’s car with a quick ‘thanks, sis’ before closing the door and heading into work. He wondered what bullshit he’d have to put up with today as he munched down on his snickers.

Richie immediately noticed Melissa and her biters at Pacman not far from the counter. He knew all too well that it yielded almost no tickets at all.

“What’s up, Craig?” he called from around his almost-gone snickers.

The mid-twenties blonde looked up from his comic to acknowledge the brunette boy before him with his hand outstretched in a fist. They bumped fists before Richie set down his shasta on the glass prize display case so he could vault the counter. He landed with a huff loud enough to peak the interest of one of the vapid cheerleaders. It wasn’t hard, none of them were at all focused on collecting dots.

“Those girls came in about a half hour ago. One of them was asking about you.” Craig was telling Richie offhandedly while the younger brunette took off his leather jacket to replace it with his work shirt.

“They’re annoying please, just, like, give them your number and be done with it, totes,” Craig started to bust out laughing while he took off his work shirt and headed into the back of the store.

Richie bent down to put his keys and jacket under the register, pausing when he heard a light giggle from above him.

Fuck.

He slowly got up to face whoever was waiting on the other side of the counter.

“Heey, Richie.” Melissa was leaning on her hand with her elbow propped up on the glass of the counter.

Richie took small a step back from the register.

“Hi, Melissa.”

“I, um, wanted to exchange these tickets for something.” she reached into her back pocket and brought out a pitiful stack of tickets.

Absolutely pathetic.

“Okay.” Richie took them and put them into the ticketing counting machine next to him.

27

“You have twenty-seven.” He said back plainly.

“Ooh, jackpot.” she said slyly smiling as she bit on the end of her sunglasses.

“You can get a finger puppet, a pocket alien” He began listing the lowest tier of redemption.

“A pair of dice,”

“Or jelly bracelets.” The short list came to an end, his attention being returned to the glinting eyes across the counter. He took note of how flattering this direct light would be on anEone else. He pushed it back and awaited her decision.

“Can I get that one?” she pointed to a particularly adorable bear toy.

“Oooh, no sorry. You don’t have enough tickets. How sad.” he clicked his tongue, cocking his head to the side.

“How many more do I need?” She asked with a horrible attempt at puppy dog eyes.

“One.”

“Let me check,” she dug into her back pocket, bouncing from foot to foot.

“Ah-hah!” Melissa pulled out a single ticket, setting it on the counter and sliding it across to him.

“Lucky you.” he said so sarcastically he almost sounded believable.

Richie turned the ticket over before putting it into the machine revealing red numbers and a call me in sloppy cursive loops with,his favorite, a little winky face. He paused, collected his nerves before presenting her with a coy smile.

“I’m sorry, this ticket has been tampered with. I can’t accept this.” he slid it back, grinning.

“Fine. Then I’ll take the,” she leaned much farther than necessary over the counter to point to a tiny alien on a key chain.

“Weird ass alien thing.”

“All yours.”

“Thank you.”

She winked at him before returning to her gang of much too giddy single sheeple friends.

He couldn’t wait to tell Eddie all about this petty ordeal but then he remembered he probably wouldn’t see his best friend until tomorrow at lunch if Eddie showed. Maybe he’d sneak out tonight.

His thoughts were interrupted when he saw Melissa and company head towards the exit.

“Bye Richie.” they all called in shrill unison as they left the arcade, giggling manically to each other. Melissa dangled her alien keychain from hier pinkie as she turned away.

Fuck he hated his job.

He crossed his arms on the glass that he would need to clean anyway and rested his head on top of them. His nose bumped something on the counter causing him to jolt up.

Fuck.

Richie picked the glasses up off the counter before vaulting it again. He walked with some urgency through the glass door after Melissa.

Lucky for him she was lagging behind her friends while they undoubtedly chattered among themselves about how perfect him and Mel would be together. How great they would look together at prom, most likely.

“Melissa!”

Eddie’s bike was thrown into the dirt far from the arcade while he sat down on a rock and used his inhaler. He hasn’t biked that fast since they had to chase Bill to that stupid fucking house on neibolt. That house that he broke his arm in. The house that the clown tried to eat him and all of his friends in.

That goddamn house where Richie set his broken arm after relentlessly trying to keep his focus on that motherfucking shit clown.

He coached his breathing back down to mildly panicked just before he saw Stan biking rapidly towards him. He seemed shocked.

He immediately worried if Richie had seen his buddy Stan and stopped him.

“Hey Stan, what’cha got there, lube for you dad?”

“No it’s Eddie’s snacks, he bolted like a bitch when you came out.”

“Oh damn, well, I got Melissa’s digits and I would have wanted to tell him that his mom’s gonna have to wait unt-”

“Eddie!”

Stan shook his shoulder lightly.

“Wait, when did you get here?”

“Like a minute ago while you were lost in thought, dude.”

“Shit. Damn.”

“You okay?” his only sanity broke off at Stan’s useless question.

“No, Stanley, Im not o’ fuckin’ kay.”

Thanks for readin’! Much love

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Two Hundred Seventy-Five: In the Shade ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata ] [ SasuHina, blood ] [ Verse: To Rule Them All ] [ AO3 Link ] 

It’s been several weeks since the attempt on Hinata’s life. The night her sworn protector - a knight of the house Uchiha - took a blade in her stead. Stopping the would-be assassin in the dark of her chambers, he let steel pierce his side to save her, having followed his instincts that despite the decade-old truce...something was amiss.

No one believed him...but he’d learned long ago to trust his gut.

Though deep, the wound wasn’t fatal, but still relieved him of his ability for several weeks as he was kept bound and stitched, the castle healer insisting he take time to let his body recuperate.

He, in turn, insisted he’d taken a vow to protect her every waking moment. The healer rebuked that he could hardly do so while wounded, and would heal faster - and thus return to her side - if he had a little patience.

“Honestly, you sort are all the same,” she’d gently chided, changing his bandages yet again. “Too eager to get yourself into another fight. Your sword and your shield are not your only tools, knight. So too is your body a part of your arsenal. Would you go into battle with a cracked blade, or a splintered shield? If not...you must apply the same logic to your form. Allow it time to mend...so that it may serve you, and not falter. Her ladyship is still guarded. Worry not.”

“How can I not worry when it was my suspicion and act alone that saved her?” he’d grunted, teeth clenching at the sting of air against the parted flesh. “Those with her now refused to believe me…”

“Well, I’m certain they’ll believe you now, after what you did. You saved the princess’ life, you did. No one’s about to forget that any time soon, nor doubt you. All you need now is a little patience, and a little mending...and you’ll be back where you belong.”

Still unsatisfied, Sasuke merely sighed, allowing her to work unfettered. The orders to rest were...irksome, but he knew she was right. His body is, indeed, his most valuable asset. Returning to Hinata when still unwhole would only mean he’d be less able to defend her.

So...he’s been exercising patience as best he can.

Today, he’s finally allowed outside, the healer warning him to keep his bandages unsoiled and his movement to a minimum. So, he’s settled on a bench in the princess’ private garden, in the shade of a wide-crowned tree. The leaves are beginning to turn, a few dancing in gentle breezes along the path. Autumn...Summer is over, and soon Winter will grip the kingdom. And Hinata has yet to acquiesce to a husband. Surely by Spring, Hiashi will finally lose his patience. It’s been nearly a year since she was declared suitable to be courted...and with Sasuke’s help, she’s evaded her suitors.

But the last - tied to the coup - has set the entire castle on edge. Hiashi has, for the moment, cancelled all other meetings with prospective suitors until his daughter’s knight is healed, and she better protected. That, at least, will buy them a little more time.

Staring up into the amber and crimson leaves, Sasuke lets his eyes close as a wind weaves through his hair. He has, by now, realized that his actions to shelter Hinata from her suitors is no longer purely to follow her wishes. He dreads seeing her wed, because...well, because he loves her, as foolish as that may be. Though Hinata alluded to a knight garnering the honor to befit marrying a princess, he’s unsure if he could ever do so to a point Hiashi would approve of. And even now, he still doubts if Hinata’s attachment has grown as strong as his own.

...and he doesn’t want to shatter what they have: an absolute trust. If he were open with what he felt, and she did not feel the same...surely it would change things between them forever.

So, he keeps such thoughts to himself, despite mulling them over and over again when there’s quiet, such as now.

Fate, however, isn’t keen to leave him alone for too long.

“So...released you, have they?”

Declining his head and opening his eyes, there’s a momentary flutter to his chest as Hinata enters the garden. “...for the moment. The healer insists I’m not quite ready for duty, yet. But I had to get some fresh air, or I’d run mad.”

That earns a soft laugh. “I’m sure...you’re unused to being so cooped up. But I’m happy to hear you’re healing well. I know she was rather concerned at the depth of the wound, but...she works miracles, that woman.” Reaching him, Hinata takes a dainty seat at his side. “...I’ve not had a chance to thank you properly.”

“There’s nothing to thank, my lady. I did as I am sworn to do, and am honored to do. You know I would repeat my actions in a heartbeat. My life is yours.”

Expression unreadable, Hinata’s eyes flicker between his own, as though...looking for something. “...it’s been rather lonely without you. The other guards they’ve given me, well...they aren’t you. In almost any form, really. I...miss our talks.”

“...as do I. But I’ll be back at your side soon. We need only be patient.”

“...very well.”

For a time, the pair lapse into a companionable silence: something they’ve had much of during the past year they’ve known one another. But something, he can tell, is weighing on her mind.

“...are you all right, my lady?”

Staring out into the rest of the garden, she doesn’t at first reply. But then pale eyes turn to see him, betraying the worry she feels. “...I have been...unsettled as of late.”

“Why is that?”

“...at first, I thought it the change after so long: not having you by my side. And while that has been true...there’s something else. Something...that was not, at first, clear to me. But…” Her gaze drops to her lap, forlorn. “...I have known, since I met you, that you would lay down your life for mine. It was something I had to accept from the beginning. And yet...these past months, you have become such a staple part of my life. Like...an extension of my arm. I feel as though, were I to lose you...I would forever be missing a part of myself.”

Watching her quietly, Sasuke has no reply.

“...when you...countered that assassin, in my quarters...I was scared. But...not the way I thought I would be. Not for myself. When I saw you were wounded - when I saw your blood free of your veins where it belongs - I was so afraid. Afraid that I was to lose you. And in that moment, I rebelled against the idea so thoroughly, so completely...I realized I would never forgive myself if you did exchange your life for mine.”

“...but my lady, that is my purpose. It would be my honor to -”

“Please…!”

Her interjection is so terse, so full of refusal, that he stops mid-word. All at once, she’s tensed and shaking, expression pinched with emotion.

“...please. I...I know what you swore. I know that you would uphold your oath without a second thought, just as you did that night. But Sasuke, I…” Looking to him, she startles him with tears beaded along her lids. “...I can no longer abide by it. I realize now that I...I care for you too much to see you risk your life for mine. Because I...I think…” The words seem to weigh on her tongue, held for a moment in hesitation. “...I think I may be in love with you.”

Shock slackens his features, staring as she lowers her eyes back to the skirts of her gown. She…?

“...I realize I may be speaking out of turn. But...never in my life have I been able to trust someone as I have you. Confide in someone. Felt...listened to, and seen…! To you, I am not simply a princess. Not just a bloodline, a pretty face, a...a vessel for an heir! I am a person, unique and my own. And you...you see that. I know you do, after all we’ve exchanged. And to me...that is worth more than any mountain of gold, any pristine castle, any status…”

She takes a moment to sigh, shoulders wilting. “...perhaps I am a fool grasping at something I...do not understand. If I am alone in this, then...please, tell me swiftly, and I will never again speak of it. But I could not bear that within myself a moment longer. Not when you may be taken from me, one way or another. Forgive me if this leaves you unsettled. Know that...you may reject me, and face no consequence. For I could not -”

“Hinata…”

Her words cease on a dime, not daring to look to him until his hand guides her face to see him. But rather than discomfort or rejection...she sees a soft and weary smile.

“...I will admit, I do not think myself worthy of you. Nor, I imagine, would anyone else. But...you are not alone in your feelings. I fear mine have festered for longer than yours, with your eyes so newly opened. I too feared them misplaced, a knight daring to feel affection for a princess. But you put my heart at ease, knowing I am not the only of us feeling this way. All that is left to fear...is what will happen should we admit it to anyone else.”

Though bright-eyed at his own confession, Hinata wilts at his last words. “...I don’t know. I...I can’t know what my father would think. If I am to be honest, I had hoped your actions would lift you in his eyes...has he spoken to you?”

“No...to you?”

“...not yet. I believe the incident still has him unsettled. Perhaps...we could speak to him. But I fear, should he reject the notion, it would mean him parting us forever, finding such an attachment inappropriate if we were not instead permitted to wed. I do not know what to do…”

Sighing softly, Sasuke tries to think. “...for now...perhaps it is best we remain silent. Your father is clearly still shaken, and...I am still not quite myself. I may speak to my brother and seek his wisdom. He may have an inkling of what we should do, and would not betray us.”

“...you are right. Then...I will try to be patient.”

“As will I. If you could, send him to me when he has a moment. I know the court keeps him busy.”

“I’m sure he would make time for his brother.” Somber hesitation pulls at her features. “...I hope we can find a way.”

“As do I. But, until then...I am still your knight, and you still my princess. We must act as such. And I will not sully your honor by courting you unapproved. For now...we must restrain ourselves.”

“...I agree. Even if it will test my patience as never before.”

That earns a soft laugh. “A queen must be well-versed. Consider it an exercise in restraint, my lady.”

Hinata gives a hint of a pout. “...for you, I will do it.”

“...then so shall I.”

                                                          .oOo.

      (This is a sequel to days 67, 109, 212, 220, and 236!)      Finally some more of the princess and her knight verse! I've missed this one, it's one of my favorites lol      Poor Sasuke, still healing up after that nasty stab wound...but at least he's pulling through all right. He just needs to be patient...both of them, actually. Will Hiashi actually accept their feelings and allow them to wed...? Only one way to find out, I suppose...and we'll have to wait for a good prompt to get there x3 Sorryyy~      Anywho, it's very late, I'm very tired, and I'd best sign off. Thanks for reading!

[hanniiesuckle17]

Dating Jeon Jungkook

Dating jeon jungkook wow you scored bitch

why don’t we start with how you met

2 am convience store

you wanted some ramen

and he needed more coffee since he was probably going to be working in the studio all night

too lazy to go back home (same reader, same) you sat at the counter and ate your cup of noodles listening to some music from a random playlist on your phone

the bell rang signaling someone else entered the store

you paid no mind to the boy wearing the black face mask and sweatpants. he wasn’t more attention grabbing than your ramen

wow savage

however, he took notice of you

he often came to this store and usually no one but the clerk was around

you broke his normalcy

i know how rude of you to not know this was his convenience store that he didn’t own

at first he was puzzled

then he started to recognize how pretty you were

dont say otherwise reader you fuckin gorgeous

anyway...for once he decided to not just grab a bag of coffee and just buy a cup

he set the cup on the counter and slid into the seat next to you

obviously you were like

dude wtf who are you why you sitting here you feeling rapey go away with your creepy mask pervert

so you do the natural thing

you move to the next seat

good job reader stranger danger is no goddamn joke

Its 2 am

you look over at him to see him just fiddling with his cup

was he talking to someone else?

there was no one else in the store

Usually I'm the only one here at 2 am. I'm Jungkook, by the way

he pulled down his mask to take a sip of his coffee revealing the rest of his face

screw stranger danger this guy was unbelievably beautiful

Its 2 am. why are you here

he smiles and turns to look at you

I'm just looking for something to find

i nodded. Hot. Deep. Aesthetic. Did the man sing and shit rainbows too?

What about you

I came for the ramen. Simple things in life.

he laughed showing off his smile

the two of you ended up laughing and talking for the next hour

No! I'm really not lying! She can't eat bread if its cut diagonally. It's so weird!

he laughed again before looking at you for a moment

I'm severely fighting the urge to ask you our right now.

it took you my surprise

Well I already lost twenty minutes ago. You wanna go out sometime?

YES READER YOU GET IT BITCH

Anyway let's get on to actually dating kookie

literally the biggest fluff ball ever

he never really had time to date when he was a trainee so he makes up for it when he is with you

he legitimately loves doing all the cheesy couple things

golden maknae doesn't care what his hyungs think

PDA FOR LIFE

you can not get this boy off of you

Jungkook let me go for a sec, I can't breathe

Who needs air when I have you

I do. I still need air

loves to hold your waist

not really a hand holder, but will always have an arm around your waist

bringing him snacks when he is working late at the studio

having all of your firsts in the studio

LITERALLY

boy needs a break get him out of there

likes working with you either in his lap or in the room

jokingly recorded you in the booth one time when you wanted to try it out

thought your voice was really pretty so he saved it and used it as a back track for one of their songs

all of your dates either happen late at night or at your place so paparazzi wont catch you

he accidentally met your parents after three months of dating

he came over early one day since he had half a day off and he just walked through the door of your apartment

immediately froze seeing to people he didnt know (you went to the kitchen to get something)

legit thought he walked into the wrong apartment

your parents thought he was a creep or a thief so they shouted for you as he started to back out

you had to reassure him that everything was okay and then introduced him

your parents absolutely love him

still call him the door creep occasionally

he was so nervous the whole time

all this boy wanted to do was come home for cuddles after a long day and then was met with the pressure of meeting your parents

he has the worst luck

couldn't help the bunny smile from creeping onto his face when your hand slipped into his under the table to reassure him

you guys have the most supportive relationship

everytime something good happens to you at work the next day there is a bouquet of flowers on your desk

a year and a half into the relationship he moves in with you

always offering to pay to get a bigger place

shutting him up and telling him you like the place now

does this thing where he purposely leaves dirty coffee cups everywhere so when hes half asleep he just has to look on the bathroom counter and grab a coffee cup to refill

pisses you off so much

every week or so going around the apartment with a laundry basket and collecting all the cups

found one in the shower once

he is so confused the next morning when there isnt a new cup by his shoes in the closet

the process just restarts

doesnt actually get a chance to talk to you about coming out to the public

happened on accident

you guys were always super careful when you did go out at night

you made a snack run to the convenience store at about 3 am and made sure Kookie was wearing a mask

but the man just loves you and wants to pda

pulled down his mask for a second to kiss you in the chip aisle

pulled away to see some girl with her phone out taking a picture

when she saw you noticed she took off

kookie was so stressed about the whole thing

he really didnt want you in the media until he was sure army would be okay with it

rushed back to the studio which caused a fight

ended with him apologizing and telling you he loved you for the first time

You make me so angry sometimes. All I want to do is protect you because I love you so much

you kinda just stood there in silence

he clearly knew what he said

he was staring back at you calmly with his head in his hand

bout to respond when Jin knocked on the door and asked jungkook if he left his worldwide handsome water bottle in the studio

WE ARE DOING SOMETHING IMPORTANT HERE HYUNG

shut the door in his face

laughing you hugged him wrapping your arms around his midsection

I love you too you idiot

next time I'll keep my mask on I promise

I'm stapling that thing to your face

AnYWayy back to life with kookie

likes to walk around the house in literally just sweatpants and cartoon socks

Makes you wonder if it's wrong to think hes hot because he literally is wearing socks with hello kitty on them

Yes the bitch has multiple

sleeps on his back naturally and likes to sleep with your head on his chest

that person that talks during movie or tv shows

but it's always like relevant and sparks a convo about the cinematography or the screenplay

once the relationship is out he does pda a lot less but you two go out more

he does this thing when you're standing in line where he will latch onto the sides of your shirt and rest his forehead on your shoulder or in the crook of your neck

UWU

sends you bts memes daily

also the type to having burping competitions with you

he also keeps a standing record of who wins

before international tours you helping him with his english

You buy him one carton of banana milk for every five answers he gets right

not like your fridge isnt stocked anyway

literally you are dating a child

but it's amazing

brings you to award shows because he wants you there as his good luck charms

calls you 'little bear' bc you are soft like a teddy bear and he likes your cuddles

has no shame

literally called you that in front of not only paparazzi but BANG PD

back hugs for days

likes playing with your hair

helping him dye his hair late at night in the bathroom

when guests come over they always comment on how cool your sink is because it has the like marbled pink color

Yeah thanks Kookie

Yeah ireumeun jungkook

Y/N STOP OMG

boy is such a meme

loves couples costume for Halloween

most questionable one was when you went as sully and boo and he carried you on his shoulders the whole night

THEY ONLY GAVE ME AN APPLE WTF

Kookie calm your tits you can have my candy bar

THEY GAVE YOU A CANDY BAR?

literally you love this boy so much

I just made myself uwu with this

Masterlist

[talk-quirky-to-me]

Worth It

I come bearing a messy one-shot, because I’m kinda ill and I can’t really keep track of all the plot strands, let alone the overall mood. Childhood friends!AU. Kind of. 

ShigaDabi Week Day 4: Child

Word count: 1650

–––

There are three-and-a-half ways to sneak out of his family house unnoticed. 

“And-a-half”, because one of the ways is out of Shouto’s window, so technically someone does notice, but Shouto is a toddler and as such doesn’t count. A damn lucky toddler too – having his bedroom on the first floor and whatnot. 

There are only two ways to get back in (well, one-and-a-half going by previous standards) because Touya can’t jump high enough to get a grip on the tree branches, but he thinks sneaking out at nights is worth the risk. Fuyumi, chastising him mornings after (listen, she doesn’t notice, but she sees the bags under his eyes), tells him that it isn’t, really. Fuyumi hasn’t met Tenko. 

Tenko is a year younger than Touya. He has blue hair (light blue, he says, but they meet on barely-lit streets in the middle of the night, so it looks more grey) and red eyes. Touya doesn’t know what his quirk is because Tenko refuses to tell him, but he knows that the boy doesn’t shake hands. He doesn’t shake hands, or do high fives, or even pick up sticks or stones from the pavement without a good deal of hesitation, so Touya assumes it has something to do with touches. 

(He learns that he assumes correctly, but he learns it later. So much later.) 

They meet the second time Touya finds the courage to sneak out. Back then he is almost convinced that Fuyu is right, it isn’t worth the risk, because if his father catches him–, but then he wanders around the corner and finds a boy sitting on the cobalt stones of the pavement. 

“Hi,” he says. 

The boy bolts down the alley. 

If one good thing came out of his father’s training sessions, it’s that Touya can outrun some adults, let alone kids his age who look like they are barely standing. He catches up to the boy and grabs him by the shoulder, and the boy falls down, flailing his arms around, and hisses loudly as he lands on his elbows instead of his palms. 

“Are you okay?” Touya asks, offering him a hand. The boy scrambled to his feet without taking it. 

“Who are you?” he asks. His eyes look brown (they’re red, Touya learns later), and his gaze is piercing. Touya finds himself shivering, and it’s not from the cold. 

“My name is Touya,” he says. “I live nearby. And you?”

It’s a wonder, he thinks later, that somehow he manages to get an introduction in response. Shimura Tenko – that’s what the boy’s called, Tenko, and he lives nearby too, no, not with his family, what’s it matter to you?! – isn’t exactly the friendliest person out there. He doesn’t shake hands or do high fives or talk about himself. His hands are hidden in his pockets more often than not, unless he scratches at his neck or raises them, as if to shield himself, when Touya moves too sharply (a familiar reflex). He isn’t friendly and he isn’t loud like kids their age are, like Natsuo is, like Touya is too, but he is fun to be around. Well, maybe not always fun, but...

Intriguing, Touya thinks. That’s the word. 

So he keeps sneaking out. Shouto grows, so the three-and-a-half ways turn into three because the kid will babble to their mother if he notices, but the tree branches are still right outside Touya’s window, and nobody guards the back door. He keeps sneaking out and keeps meeting Tenko in dimly lit alleyways or even cheap twenty-four-hour cafés by petrol stations, and he buys them hot chocolate because Tenko doesn’t carry money. Touya doesn’t know if he has much – he never does stop wearing the same three shirts.

Tenko doesn’t tell him when his birthday is, so Touya picks an arbitrary day in the middle of July when he is not too exhausted or hurt and buys a huge cake and some decent clothes. They finish the cake, the two of them, and next day Touya’s stomach hurts so the training is worse, but somehow, he thinks when Fuyu treats the burns on his left arm and hides her eyes, it’s completely worth it. Next time he sees Tenko, the boy is wearing a T-Shirt with a funky print, and they both don’t stop laughing at it for the entire night. 

The thing is, sneaking out is worth it. Tenko is worth it, because seeing him smile, chapped lips and all, is somehow better than a night’s sleep. So is talking. So is hearing him rant about the flaws of the hero society (he sounds way older than eleven when he does, too articulated, too passionate) or about video games (and then he does sound eleven. Touya doesn’t know which is better). Sneaking out is worth it, totally. 

Touya isn’t quite sure whether it’s worth it to sneak back in. 

When he is five, or six, or eight, it’s... okay. It’s not awful, back home. His father goes hard on him, but Touya is used to it. He can handle the burns and the bruises. But then Shouto turns four, and his quirk is something out of the ordinary, something Enji has been trying to orchestrate every time he had another child – another little project to work on – and suddenly Touya has to deal with the fact that Shouto is getting hurt too. He can’t stop their father – never could, not enough firepower, not enough training – so he’s left to watch. Left to witness how Endeavor the hero comes home after a long day at work and drops his facade and hurts his youngest son with a feeble excuse of making him stronger.

Touya doesn’t want to... see it. 

Perhaps he’s selfish. 

Perhaps he’s weak. 

Perhaps he’s dramatic. 

He’s twelve, for god’s sake, of course he is dramatic and selfish and weak, and he makes his plans and schemes in the darkness of his bedroom instead of sneaking out, and he sees Tenko maybe once a week now, maybe once in two. 

Tenko is angry. 

Touya thinks he has the right to be. 

Touya also thinks that if he wants to run, he needs to run far. 

He buys some black hair dye. He doesn’t buy contact lenses because they are too much of a bother and because he wants his father to recognise whose eyes he is looking into when Touya comes back for vengeance. He finds an abandoned house on the other side of town, and where his father keeps his cash. 

One night he sneaks out – out of Shouto’s window again, because again, he’s dramatic, he’s twelve and he half wants to be stopped – and he doesn’t sneak back in. 

He doesn’t say goodbye to mother, or Natsuo, or even Fuyu. He hugs Shouto before the boy goes to bed, careful not to hurt him, and promises he’ll see him again. Shouto nods and says, “Tomorrow?”, and Touya looks away. 

He doesn’t say goodbye to Tenko. Forces himself to run right past the alleyway where they would meet lest he gets noticed. 

He doesn’t say goodbye, because Tenko knows Touya. 

Touya wants Touya to disappear. 

He dyes his hair black over a broken sink that night and makes a mess out of his palms and clothes. He tries to wipe the black from under his eye and only smudges it more. 

He stares at the smudge for a long, long time. 

Then presses his fingertips to it and lets it burn.

Cremation, he thinks. 

Dabi. 

He can make that work.

***

Burning skin is easy, it turns out. Holding it together – not so much. 

He finds some staples. 

He finds a job, gets fired, finds another dozen. 

He grows. He teaches himself how to control his quirk better, how to make the flames hotter and how to leave fewer burns across his fingertips every time he plays with the flames (not that it is a priority). 

He grows. He gets himself a few acquaintances, then leaves them behind. He steals a bike, once, then decides that petty crimes aren’t really his style. 

Now the Hero Killer...

He doesn’t want to have anything to do with information brokers or blood-sucking blonde gremlins with less mental stability than he has. 

He comes along anyway because he thinks he should, if only to make sure Toga doesn’t get herself murdered, and to see whether the League of Villains lives up to its reputation. To see whether it can help with – hell, revenge. Noble causes sound good, but he’s not really after those. 

He comes along, and then freezes in the doorway and stares at the League’s boss. 

His name is Shigaraki Tomura, for god’s sake. It’s not even that creative.

“Hey there”, he drawls, when Tenko – like hell Dabi’s calling him Shigaraki – looks up. “Long time no see.”

In retrospect, he doesn’t expect to be recognised. He’s passed Natsuo on the street before, walked right past him, heart hammering in a panicked rhythm, and hasn’t gotten a second glance. 

He and Natsuo grew up together. He and Tenko saw each other under electric light three times. 

Tenko blinks. Then sighs and gets up. 

“Come in, then,” he says, and his voice is blank, carefully so, but not carefully enough. “Wanna tell me what the hell you have done to your face, Touya?”

“It’s Dabi now, Tenko,” Dabi says and sticks his hand out for a handshake. Others stare – Toga, and Giran, and the misty cloud of smoke at the bar – but he can’t bring himself to care. 

Not when Tenko takes his hand, his pinky hovering carefully above Dabi’s skin. 

Not when he offers a wry smile, chapped lips and unfamiliar scars and all, and nods sharply. 

“It’s Tomura now, Dabi,” he says. 

They take a while to let go.